


Fortuna audaces juvat

by speia



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Angst, Canon Universe, Character Development, Considerations about ethics, Considerations upon politics, Considerations upon society, Depression, Developing Relationship, F/M, Heavy Angst, I'm Going to Hell, I'm Sorry, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Mentions of War, Not A Happy Ending, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Canon, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Semi-explicit sex scenes, Slow Build, and, idk - Freeform, if that's a thing, in the final chapters, like angst, so much angst it's a tragedy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-13
Updated: 2019-08-20
Packaged: 2019-08-23 06:15:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 38
Words: 57,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16613489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/speia/pseuds/speia
Summary: Oh darling, the night is young. And I see them long dark hours to come





	1. Veni, vidi, vici

**Author's Note:**

> Just make sure to read the tags  
> And to enjoy yourself, after all why not :) 
> 
> (Most of the chapters are written and I update once a week unless stated otherwise, have a wild ride) 
> 
> ***
> 
> Chapter Title: I came, I saw, I conquered

The university library was crowded, as it always was around the exams period. So crowded she barely managed to find a seat in the back of the room. Honestly, where did all those students come from? And where were they hiding the rest of the year? She angrily threw her bag on the chair before someone had the great idea to steal it from her. Students were working in small groups, whispering, helping each other out. Good thing little of them had interest in alchemy-related Latin or Ancient Greek, she was pretty sure all the texts she needed would be available. 

Everybody was fascinated by alchemy but nobody cared about the texts that started it all: Aristotle, Pythagoras, the theory of the four elements, nobody cared about that. Nobody but Amy. The power of science over literature. According to society, those texts were no longer useful, alchemy had made so much progress. But Aristotle, Pythagoras, they had so much more to say… She travelled her finger alongside the shelves, picking up some books from here and there when a voice stopped her.

“Excuse me, miss. Are you Amy Miller?” 

She glanced over her shoulder. Her eyes caught a blue uniform, black hair, black eyes and a gorgeous serious face. She noticed the silver chain of a State Alchemist pocket watch as well. Again, another alchemist. One of the state, this time. She didn’t like it when the army stuck its nose in her business. But she couldn’t just brush off an officer of his rank. Not a Colonel, that might be considered a bit rude. Universities were ruled by the military after all, she had to be cautious if she wanted to stay here. If she wanted to still be able to read all those ancient texts doomed to be forgotten in this country that encouraged only science and weaponry. 

“That’s me” she didn’t salute or even greeted him though.

“I’m Colonel Roy Mustang, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Oh this was what  _ the legend _ , the  _ Hero of Ishval _ looked like. Okay, the rumors were true: he was good-looking, very polite and well-mannered. And of course the sole mention of such famous name was enough to have every student around whisper. And every girl stare. Great. By tomorrow, her classmates would find Amy suddenly very  _ interesting _ , she was ready to bet on that. As long as it didn’t endanger her own authority as a soon-to-be Latin Doctor, she wouldn’t really mind the gossips. But carrying such a reputation everywhere was probably heavy. And the man sure looked tired. 

“Likewise” she said in a firm voice, turning around to properly face him “What business does the military have with me?”

“I’m here on a personal matter” he said, pulling out a small piece of paper out of his pocket “I wondered if you could tell me what  _ robur _ means.”

“That’s the oak” she answered by automatism “It’s a very hard and solid wood so by extension it could mean strength and vigor” she blinked several times “But if you need Latin vocabulary, there’s a dictionary here and…”

“Oh I see” he cut her, rubbing his chin “Still doesn’t make any sense” he looked back at her, frowning “The thing is, I came across a document that could be useful for my research. But it’s in Latin and packed with mythological references, I can’t decipher it.”

She had a hard time not to sigh or look annoyed. Really, again? This was East City University, there was a bunch of professors specialized in alchemical Latin. Why her? She was just a student! He was no better than the previous ones, probably just looking for a free translator. She just smiled, pretty much aware it was more a smirk than anything.

“I’m sorry, sir, but I’m afraid I don’t have the time to help you. I can give you the names of professors or students who, I’m sure, are willing to help…”

“You’re a good latinist, a student of honor of this very university. I have been told this text tackles poetry, uses a lot the vocabulary of light. Since you’ve specialized in the symbolism of light and shadow, something no professor here specialized in, I thought about reaching you.”

“Your point being?” she hissed, drumming her fingers on the books with impatience.

“My point being, I’m giving you an opportunity. You’re aiming to be a university professor as well, right? I know you’re in the middle of your thesis but helping out a State Alchemist is something you can actually put on your resume. It may even help you get a university chair on your own right after graduation.” 

How annoying. He was wasting her time. He was probably thinking he could get anything with his silver watch and his gorgeous face. Goddammit, why couldn’t he take no for an answer? There were a thousand of girls dying to help him, why didn’t he just go and pick one clever enough to do this stupid translation and referencement? It was probably an easy task as well. Well, when you knew your Latin of course. She held out a hand, she’d just take the stupid thing, read it and say a big firm no. 

“Let me take a look. If the text doesn’t interest me, this conversation ends here” she grabbed the piece of paper he handed her “And for the record, I’ll get that chair by myself.”

There was a reason she never indulged in that easy ladder-climbing that was called  _ helping out a State Alchemist _ : she wanted to do her work on her own, to be acknowledged for it, and to take pride in it. His handwriting was hard to read. She squinted her eyes and scanned the few lines he had written down quickly. Her mind worked its magic, analyzing the words, building up the sentence, letting her understand… Letting her understand how good that Latin actually was. The rhythm, the words… She counted the syllables, yeah that was an actual hexameter and a  _ regular _ one. 

“Where did you find this?” she looked up to him.

And realized her mistake. She bit on her lower lip. Crap, she had taken the bait, she had fallen for it head first. Oh God, she wished she could just wipe that smug smile off his pretty face. He knew how to get to her, he had probably thought it all through. 

“The conversation doesn’t end right here, I see” he purred as his mischievous smile grew wider. 

“Well” she cleared her throat “If you show up with perfectly regular dactylic hexameters, of course I might reconsider the offer.” 

So much for throwing a  _ student of honor _ off balance, Colonel! 

“Ahem…” he blinked several times “I’m sorry, perfectly regular what?”

“Latin verse. The embodiment of perfection in this kind of literature” she handed him back his notes “This is a piece of work, I suggest you analyze the words at the caesura and look for their symbolism since it’s where…”

“Easy, Miss Miller, or I’m going to start thinking you’re flirting with me” he chuckled “So… do we have a deal?”

“Of course not” she turned around and grabbed a grammar and a book about the styles in poetry “I can explain the basics so you can look for the symbolism…  _ alone _ .”

“Let me” he took a step forward to get her rid of the books “They sure are heavy.”

She just smiled as she got back to her table. It was completely empty and the students on the tables nearby had become abnormally silent. Sure, being a State Alchemist could come in handy a couple of times. As they were sitting, she opened the book on poetry and looked at him.

“How much do you actually know about Latin?” 

“Nothing” he admitted “I mean, I was just told, like all regular alchemists, the words like  _ corpus _ ,  _ spiritus _ , those we can put in the runes around the transmutation circles.” 

“Jeez” she pinched the bridge of her nose “This is going to take a lifetime” she closed the book, she couldn’t start with this then “I’m going to have to explain to you the basics of grammar first. I’m going to try to be clear, don’t hesitate to stop me if I use too many complicated words. I’ve never explained grammar to a neophyte before.”

“I’m sure it’ll be easy, coming from a smart lady like you.”

She glanced at him, arching an eyebrow. Really? Well, he  _ was _ the Colonel Mustang after all, what did she expect? Him  _ not to be true  _ to his reputation? He was probably playing on it, to have things go the way he wanted with women. Not working, though. She didn’t answer to that and just started to talk about the mechanisms of grammar. His face had become serious again, he was taking down notes. She had to admit, he really was gorgeous. 

And the library remained silent but she was too aware on the heavy stares on them. 


	2. Tempus discendi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A time to learn

Amy yawned and stretched. She glanced at her watch quickly. Shoot, the library was so about to close. So she  _ did  _ spend her entire afternoon trying to explain him how Latin grammar actually worked. Come on, it couldn’t be  _ that _ hard. She didn’t understand why he wasn’t getting the grasp of it already. Wasn’t it a good alchemist? Wasn’t he supposed to be hella smart?

“But what’s the point of making a rule if there are so many exceptions to it?” he let out in a sigh, passing an annoyed hand in his hair.

“It’s a language, not a science, this is why” she closed her book in a swift movement “Let’s call it a day, shall we? I think we both had enough.”

“Yeah” he pinched the bridge of his nose “How can you do it though? How can you work on this stuff all day?”

“I could ask you the same about alchemy” she smiled, pilling up the books before carrying them under her arm “I know the basics and of course all the symbols but I can’t come up with a proper formula. I am not a scientist after all, just a mere translator.”

“Let me get some of those” he stood up and relieved her of the biggest ones “I don’t do much research anymore” he explained in a firm voice, putting the books back on the shelves, his brows frowned “I aim for a bigger goal than just coming up with a perfect formula, I’m afraid.”

“Something like climbing the ladder perhaps” she put away the last book and rubbed her hands together “Why do you need me to translate that piece, then?”

“I still do need the power to climb it, you know.”

“Makes sense” she turned around to face him and asked “Are you going to use that power as a weapon?”

Of course he was, alchemy in Amestris was mostly used for warfare after all. And he was a State Alchemist. And the Hero of Ishval. And climbing up ranks.

“That is not of your business, Miss Miller.”

“My apologies, Colonel” but her tone was sarcastic.

They remained silent as she gathered her bag and stuff and went straight for the exit. Her hand was on the doorknob when she briskly turned back and walked to the alchemy aisle.

“I forgot something, just a second.”

She scanned the books quickly and pulled out the one called  _ Of Alchemy Fundamentals: A Handbook of Transmutation Circles _ . She was taught about those when she was younger but it had been years. And she probably had just forgotten about the most of it by the time she started to analyze symbols in ancient manuscripts without trying to apply them to an actual circle, more focusing on the language used than anything else. But if she were to work on a piece in order to draw out a formula she’d better freshen up her memory a little.

“What do you need that for?” he asked as she went at the desk and borrowed it.

“Thank you, have a nice evening” she greeted the librarian “What I do is translation and commentary: I analyze what the symbols are and offer a translation that allows the readers to understand the symbols and themes tackled better, or so I hope. Here, it’s about a precise formula so there’s no room open for mere interpretation and hypotheses. Yes, I must analyze the text and look for the figures of speech and the symbols they convey but here, it’s not just about a general symbol and the uses you could make of it: I must translate a formula that can work. And for that I need to remember how alchemy works…”

“So… you’re going to help me or not?” he held the door opened for her “Because if we work together, I can do the formula part” his tone sounded a little patronizing “I’m an alchemist, if you tell me what the text says I can draw out the formula myself.”  

“I must admit I’m interested...” she looked at her feet in embarrassment “Even if I saw only four lines of the text. But unfortunately, I don’t think I’ve the time. My schedule is already crammed, squeezing you in won’t be easy…”

“It’s okay, I’ll find something” he rubbed his chin “It mustn’t be easy, to manage such hard studies and your lovelife with your fiancé.”

“Fiancé?” she frowned, where did he get such crazy idea?

“Oh, I’m sorry. I thought this was an engagement ring” he said, pointing at the small onyx and silver ring on her right hand. 

“Oh no. I mean, yes it is but… It’s complicated. I’m single, and surely not engaged. This is… nothing. Mostly to keep boys at bay. I don’t have time to waste on dates.”

“Such a shame” he purred “I wanted to buy you a thank-you drink. I happen to know a place, just a couple of blocks from here.”

“I actually didn’t say anything about thank-you drinks, you know” she playfully answered “And I really do want to discuss that schedule-thing.”  

“Fine by me.”

He offered his arm but she refused. Really? Like she’d fall for that  _ as well _ . She knew about his reputation, she even knew it was probably just gossips and hearsay but she wasn’t willing to bet on this. And, well, for starters, things like that were…

“Not keen on physical contact, are you?” he smirked at her, putting his hands in his pockets with a smug face as if being turned down only increased his confidence in his potential for seduction. 

“No, I’m not” she answered with a neutral voice “Don’t take it personally, I’m not with anyone. Or anything. I'm...” she giggled “I wish I were a Platonic idea, you know,  _ not incarnated. _ ”

“I...” he blinked several times, he expected any answer but that, he surely was taking the loss hard on this one “Ahem, sure… I guess? I'm sorry I'm not really familiar with Plato.”

“How come you're not?” her voice betrayed surprise “You're an alchemist! The idea, the symbol of the hermaphrodite as the perfect being comes from him! The round and sphere as perfect geometrical figures also come from him! And Plato’s writing is… so beautiful and allegorical, you  _ must _ read some. Forget about his political ideas though, they suck.”

And then Amy remembered who she was talking to. The Colonel Roy Mustang. Not some random dude. Surely not some random dude. That was maybe a little too informal. Well, she always was getting carried away when she was talking. About anything. And everything.

“No, it’s just…” he glanced at her “I surely wasn’t expecting the top student of the Alchemy-oriented Humanities to be like this. To be honest… girls your age are usually keen on romance, looking for a boyfriend and you’re just…” he rubbed his chin, trying to find the right words.

“Shouting out my love for Plato, I know” she took a deep sigh “I didn't expect you to understand. I am a soul, I live in a body. I know that, on a rational level, I'm a whole, body  _ and  _ soul, but in my heart… I feel like a pure mind. And this body is a medium…” she sighed one more time “Again I don't expect you to understand.”

“You shouldn't say stuff like that” his voice has become abnormally cold, oh this was were the ethical line was drawn then? “Your body is important. Like you said: you're a whole. You'd better be thankful to have a body.”

“Easy, Colonel” she made an effort to flash him a bright smile, she truly ruined the mood here “It was just a way of talking. There's no such thing as a soul with no body…”

But his eyes, when they met hers, were deadly. She stopped walking and looked away instinctively. So there  _ was  _ such thing as a bodiless soul! There was such thing as a being closer to Plato’s ideals! She bit on her lower lip, she shouldn’t get excited about it: his glare was enough to understand it wasn’t exactly a  _ pretty  _ thing. But still… 

“I'm sorry. I crossed a line” she bowed “I'm sorry.”

But still… not feeling any pain, not having to force herself to eat again, to go to sleep again… Just being a pure mind, thinking, no longer feeling. The idea itself was indeed very tempting. 

“It’s fine” he smiled at her, good, he wasn’t mad “But there’s a price to pay for everything. I’m sure that’s something you can understand.”

Amy wasn’t dumb, she surely knew how to read between the lines: he was assuming the truth would just shock her. But if only he knew it tickled her curiosity even more! 

“Here we go” he gently said as he held the door open for her.

Great, dummy. Couldn’t she talk about normal things like a normal girl? Now they were  _ both _ tensed. Lucky the place was crammed with alcohol, they definitely needed some. 


	3. Nunc bibendum est

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now it's time to drink

“You can’t say that” Amy slammed her empty glass on the table “You can’t call the people  _ apolitical _ just because they’re not doing anything” she pointed a finger at him “Not doing anything is a political act in itself, for it allows the current regime to stay in place.”

They ended up talking political matters at the back of that small bar he led her to. The schedule matter had, of course, been quickly forgotten. Apparently he was a regular here and the bartender directly put them at his designated table in a cramped corner. She wondered if he was casually taking random students out for a drink that often. But it was none of her business. He could do what he wanted, he was a big man. It was small and dark in here, and a bit too intimate but at least no one was eavesdropping. Not that Amy was worried about someone hearing what she had to say. It was probably too philosophical and metaphysical for them to be paying attention in the first place. And if  _ just talking _ was such a crime, she’d be in jail by now. 

“They can’t really do anything though” he frowned at her “If they rise to protest they’ll just be slaughtered to set an example” he gulped down what remained of his drink “Don’t underestimate the power in place.”

“That’s just a pathetic excuse” she waved her hands angrily “We just all live in the paradoxal comfort the military brings us. We hate it but at the same time we need it, for it protects us and keeps us at  _ peace _ ” she mimicked quotation marks with her fingers “So much  _ peace _ we all agree to give up on our rights, me first” she wrung her hands “And it’s comforting, when the people have no big decision to make… so they can’t be held responsible…” she sighed “I used to believe I could do something, you know. I knew groups, underground spheres. But they weren’t… doing anything. Just talking…”

“Really?” he smirked at her “I don't picture you in such environment.”

“Why?” she waved the waiter “Because I dress like a proper lady? Don’t judge a book by its cover, Colonel: I've got a tattoo, you know” she teased “Got it on a whim though I don't regret it.”

“Tattoos are for State Alchemists…” he started with a moralizing tone.

“And punks” she held out her glass to the waiter “The same, please.”

“You surely drink like one, at least” he joked before he shook his head “I'm good.”

“Giving up, Colonel?” she purred.

“Yes, I yield” he leaned back in his chair “I still have to drive us home safely.”

“Us?” Amy arched an interrogative brow.

“Come on, I'm a gentleman. I won't let a lady such as yourself walk home at such late hour.”

Amy checked her watch. True, it was awfully late. But it was also true she came home at even later hours. And passing through neighborhoods that were sure more dangerous than this one. She tugged on her sleeves. She couldn't really turn his offer down, he had been quite the gentleman the entire evening. And she was tired indeed. She could use a ride instead of this twenty-minutes walk and she was slightly inebriated. She made the liquor swirl round and round the glass just few seconds after the waiter put it in front of her. She surely didn't feel like going home. She caught herself liking the political debate they were having. The Colonel was sure good company when he wasn't heavily hitting on her - a bit too heavily to be taken seriously, to be honest. And he made sure their arms didn't even  _ brush _ after she said physical contact was out of the question. He was attentionate, she couldn't deny him that. But bonding with someone? Well, as long as they discussed politics only she should be safe.

“I like your ideas” he suddenly said out of the blue, looking at her with close attention “What are you, twenty-five, twenty-six? How come you became so wise and aware at such young age?”

“None of your business” her voice was cold and terribly sharp and she tugged on her sleeves once more “And I'm twenty-three” she took a sip of her drink “And not wise just awfully aware of what things are and could be. Like I said, I just like thinking” she chuckled “I became what I despise though: a citizen who doesn't do shit and pretend everything’s fine.”

“At least you've tried” she saw him refrain from putting his hand on her forearm “That makes a big difference.”

“Bullshit” she drank what was left of her drink in one big gulp and slammed it back on the table “That doesn’t change the fact I gave up… And started to think freedom should be forced onto the people. Which is basically denying them any kind of free-will. And also running away, since I don’t have the kind of power to force anything onto anyone” she passed her hands on her face “What about now? What difference does it make? What difference do I make? I’m just finding excuses not to take action myself.”

“As if I could blame you…” he put his hands before him, very calm and suddenly very professional “I share the same thoughts. There's no other way. If someone doesn't take over and restore the democracy, then this country will never…” he sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose “Don't blame yourself for being aware this is the only way.”

“It's not” she played with her empty glass to avoid making eye contact “Soft power exists. I tried submitting the idea, to make posters, tracts. About interracial exchanges, about homosexuality not being a crime. Just to make people feel less shitty about what they are” she tugged again on her sleeves “They all said yes but they never helped me launch the project. I had designs made and all…”

“You're a good person, Miller” his tone was soft, caring, hard to believe they met only few hours ago “Very devoted… But what brought down such enthusiasm?”

She stopped playing with the glass, taking a deep breath. Calm down, Amy, just calm down. The man didn’t have ill intentions, just a genuine interest. Come on, didn’t you notice? That huge hero complex of his? But still… 

“Again” but hers was even colder than before “That is  _ none _ of your business.”

“You keep that all to yourself, don't you?” he crossed his arms “Let me at least help you.”

See? No ill intentions. Just an officer, a soldier, trying to serve and protect one citizen. But help, well, Amy was beyond that. Amy was in fact beyond saving. He had no ill intentions, for sure. Though his words only felt intrusive. Though his way of insisting so much only made her feel awfully self-conscious. And pretty aware of what she had done. And she tried to refrain it, oh she tried so hard. But the anger built up and up and up and up… She was that close to blow it all at him. 

“I'm sorry,  _ sir _ ” she ironically emphasized the honorific on purpose “I don't even know you,  _ Colonel _ ” she got up briskly “And you know what? I'm going home. I've to actually get up in the morning.”

That made no sense. But better run away than getting mad at a man who did nothing to deserve such treatment. Amy was mad, yes. But at herself. She dashed outside the bar. Well,  _ dash _ was a big word. She did try her best to get out of here asap, zigzagging in the crowd. Nevermind the drinks, he’d pay for them if he was such a gentleman. It’s slow him down, she could buy some time. But she only took two steps down the street before a hand grabbed her arm.

“Where do you think you're going?” the Colonel asked with a voice he probably used usually to scold his subordinates.

“Home” she said between clenched teeth, trying to free herself from his hand.

Don’t touch me! Don’t you fucking touch me, you son of a...

“My car’s this way” he said, not loosening the grip of his fingers “I said I'll drive you home, come on.”

His voice was soft. And terribly patronizing. She followed him in silence, as he left her with no choice, dragging her around by the arm. She was still angry. And at the same time not. She probably wanted him to chase after her. As selfish as such thought could be. During the car drive she only talked to give him directions. The so-called drive only lasted five minutes anyway. And when she stepped out, she was surprised he followed her outside.

“What are you doing? I’ve arrived.”

“I’m taking you to the door. A gentleman always takes a woman to her door.”

“Really?” she rolled her eyes “Okay, whatever.”

Though his attitude somehow pleased her.


	4. Senex puer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An old child

Amy opened the front door of her building, pretending the best she could not to pay attention to the Colonel. She opened her mailbox as well, more out of habit than anything. She probably shouldn't have. This man didn't need to know what kind of bills she had to pay. And great, she also recognized the stamp of the place she worked part-time. She thought he was about to make some remark about it but he just followed her closely as she started to climb the stairs. She lived on the fourth floor. She was used to those and he was a trained soldier. She stopped before the door that bore the number four. Fourth floor, fourth apartment. As much as there were four elements and the square was the most perfect geometric figure according to Pythagoras. And Amy liked even numbers and the idea of perfect symmetry they convey.

“At ease, Colonel” she intended to joke but her tone remained a little cold “This is my stop.”

“I guess you owe me an explanation” well, his wasn't warmer.

“What? I owe you nothing.”

“What is this attitude? Why did you run away like that?” he really was about to initiate such conversation in the middle of the hallway “Your speech was so mature. How come your attitude towards me is worse than a child’s?”

“Colonel…”

“I'm not leaving until you've told me why.”

Oh great, an ultimatum. At past midnight. Just in front of her door as her arms were filled with books and bills. If he just wanted to go inside, he could have just asked. Amy sighed. She said nothing as she just opened the door and waved him in. The entire building didn't need to know. Her neighbors didn't need to know. Nobody needed to know.

“That's not what I…” he started.

“Just get in, it'd be better to talk.”

He obliged, he probably was just waiting for her allowance. If he was this cautious about everything, if he was such a gentleman around women, why did he want to know what happened to her? Nobody could rewrite the past. And nobody could resurrect the dead.

Amy wasn’t afraid to let someone in her apartment. Everything was very neat and folded, everything was clean. Her bed was made, only the desk she was using to work was a little disarranged, and there was only an unwashed cup in the sink. And the pictures covering her walls, her choice of furniture, everything was thought to have people believe she had some kind of original taste. 

“Scary” she heard him joke as he looked around, he was probably thinking she was just some kind of neat freak, which she was “This is so proper, you're sure you're a student?”

She smiled, not answering his teasing. He was obviously making efforts to ease the mood but she wasn't. Not to his surprise, the place had also four rooms: bedroom, bathroom, study and kitchen-living room. And everything was in so perfect order he didn't dare to lay his finger on anything. He waited for her to put down the books she had brought home, to put her papers where they belonged. He glanced at her bookshelves: Latin and Ancient Greek, alchemy basics of course but he also noticed a lot of novels, a bit of poetry, books about art and painting, history, philosophy and, at odds with everything, two volumes about human anatomy and the latest known studies on mental illnesses. A clever girl curious about everything.

“Do you want something to drink?” she asked him as she was finally done, she didn't even apologize for keeping him waiting: she was  _ home _ .

“I'm fine” he put his hands in his pockets “You sure have a lot of photographs in here.”

“I've a friend who is a pro. And a bit of an artist, she gave me those. I don't like nude walls” she headed to the living room “Come. You can sit on the couch.”

She went to the kitchen sink and filled up two glasses of water even if he said he didn't want anything. That was just about courtesy. 

“I'm an old child” she said as she put a glass before him “That’s my explanation to you” she glanced up to catch his eyes.

“What does that mean?” he blinked and moved away as she sat down by his side.

“I've a brain that's too old and a heart that's too young” she drank all her water and put the glass down with a firm clang “I can understand everything, that's not a problem. But when it comes to  _ feeling _ it, I'm overwhelmed” she waved her hands, he wasn't getting her point “Picture a levee. And when I feel something, picture it breaking, my feelings pouring in, taking me away…”

“A levee?” he blinked, really that was too obscure?

“I feel either nothing or everything. And too much, way too much” she passed a nervous hand in her hair “I got mad but… I should have just been upset, if I could feel things normally and not at their paroxysm.”

Lame excuse, lame explanation to avoid the very words that could explain everything.  _ Traumatizing experience. _

“I guess I see what you're trying to tell me. It's like a switch. On or off. And like you can’t have a little or a big light, it's everything or nothing.”

“That's just like that, a switch” she tugged on her sleeves nonchalantly “It’s always been like that, I guess it comes from the discrepancy between my intellectual and my emotional maturity” she glanced at her empty glass “I've the intellectual ability to understand the truth about this world, guess my heart isn't built strong enough to take it” she waved her hands “I haven't much more of an explanation to offer you.”

“It's okay” he noticed her glance and moved his untouched glass before her “I just want to understand, and help you” he stared at her “But you don't believe I could help you.”

“It's a little complicated. My defense walls are high and thick. When you insisted on knowing, it just frightened me.”

“I’m not the enemy” he frowned.

“Permission to speak openly, sir?” she asked, using the military formula as she straightened up and tugged on her sleeves once more.

“Permission granted” his brows narrowed at her choice of words.

“I feel like, call it instinct, call it what you want, but I feel like you could cut right through my defense and expose me…”

Her voice had become a whisper, barely loud enough to be heard. He answered nothing: what was there to answer anyway? He made no move either. But she could still feel the kind of vibes he was giving off. The need to be touched, the urge to touch, a strong feeling of emergency. Alongside sexual tension of some weird kind. As if he wanted to prove her he could protect her, to prove her he wasn't the enemy. Or maybe to prove himself. They looked at each other for a little while, saying nothing. And, because it was the most natural thing to do, he brought his face closer to hers. Closer, closer…

“Don’t do that, Colonel” Amy put a hand on his chest “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Sorry” he said as he pulled back “I… Sorry.”

But his voice sounded different. Under entirely different circumstances she wouldn't have minded if things were to be taken to the upper level. But she would see him again, in a work environment… No, nothing good could come out of it.

What kind of vibes did she give off as well? Desperate ones? 

But his voice sounded different. As if he  _ needed _ to be touched, to be reassured, to be proven everything was fine. As if he needed to be  _ loved _ . It didn’t feel like he was trying to seduce her. More like he was trying to show that he cared. She got up before saying or doing anything she might regret. She was tired suddenly. What time was it? One? Two? She was usually staying up that late though.

“It's late, Colonel. You should go home” she was being rude, wasn't she? “Unless you want to catch some sleep first? You can have the couch.”

But she didn’t want him here. She didn’t like what she just saw, it was terribly frightening.

“It's fine” he got up as well “I've worked on less, I can drive” he headed straight for the door with no hesitation “We didn't discuss our schedule though.”

“True. But what we discussed was more interesting” she held the door open for him “Let's talk about the boring stuff tomorrow, you're free tomorrow?”

“I can pass by the library. You'll be there, right?”

“Yes.”

She saw his hand hesitate to touch her face, her arm. In the end he just nodded and left. And, looking at his back, Amy felt strange.

That was bad.

She was starting to care.


	5. Foedus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alliance, treaty, pact

“Sorry, I’m late.”

Amy looked up, the pencil still in her hand. Okay now was  _ not a good time _ . She had lost two hours trying to translate this excerpt and, now she just understood it, of course it was the time he chose to show up! Good to know at least he was a man of his word: he said he’d pass by and here he was.

“Just a second, Colonel.”

“Please, take your time.”

Amy tried her best to write down quickly the sentences she had finally managed to translate. But of course, it felt like she made him wait an awful amount of time. When she finally glanced at him, she noticed he had brought a file with him and sheets were spread all over the table. Paperwork? Most likely he was about to offer her some kind of deal. Whatever. She put down her pencil and started to put away her own work. 

“Rough day?” he asked, holding out a couple of sheets for her.

“I didn’t make much progress, I’m afraid. I was stuck on this vague and deeply allegorical sentence and couldn’t make sense of it… until now” she grabbed the papers “Thank you.”

“I made you a contract” he started with a very professional tone “So you can be an army affiliate and have a monthly income…” his eyes met hers “So you won’t have to work part-time anymore, you can focus on both your thesis and this research. You know about the privileges and obligations of an army affiliate?”

“In theory…”

Army affiliate, uh? Whatever. She couldn’t really escape from the military anyway, not in her line of work. She started to read the contract. It was all clearly exposed and detailed and, without a doubt, favoring her way more than him. Okay, so  _ he  _ would be giving her money withdrawn from his own research funds. Maybe it was what that money was for but she didn’t really like that, she’d feel like  _ owing _ him. And for the pay… The heck? Really, how much was he earning a month to be able to give away that kind of money to a complete stranger in exchange for a little help? She hissed. It was almost a rip off, such a huge amount was indecent!

“It’s not enough?” he frowned.

“Don’t be stupid, it’s way too much. I don’t even earn the half of it. You may want to reconsider…”

“This is fine” he cut her “Just a reminder about being an army affiliate: you’d get a card allowing you to access some of the classified files. You may even have access to some of the sensitive ones with a derogation but in your case I don’t see why you may need to access them. And as for obligations, the product of your research belongs to the military, you mustn’t sell it to a third party. And you may be called on the field if your expertise is required. We’re good?”

“Yes” she firmly answered as she signed down the paper, or perhaps a deal with the devil, and handed him back. 

“And this…” he pushed a little paper card in front of her “This is a card with the number of my personal line at the Headquarters. If you need anything, you call me. I mean it, Miller, you work under me now, meaning you work both under my protection and supervision.”

“Got it” she just answered, folding the card into her purse.

“Miller, I’m serious about it. You’re going to embody my research, I hope you understand what it means.”

“Of course I do” her tone as well had become professional “I will do my best not to disappoint you. And as for public appearances, well I've pretty much a plain boring life so I won't stain your public image whatsoever.”

“I know” he probably noticed the surprised look on her face for he added “I didn't pick you at random, you know. I asked my men to do some research among the university students and your profile was… outstanding, to say the least.”

“Outstanding?” she arched a brow, what could be so interesting about her?

“Straight-A grades, student of honor since the year you entered this university. Your master thesis got published alongside a paper about a correction… an image of the sun in some satire, I forgot.”

“The metaphor of Nero as the rising sun in Seneca’s  _ Apocolocyntosis _ , yes” she rubbed her forearm through the fabric of her sleeve “I didn't quite agree with the interpretations that had been done so far… But that's just me, doing my job.”

Well, at least he did his homework. But did he really have to remind her her entire résumé? She knew she was a good student, a very good one even. But that was embarrassing, she was kind of ashamed of being this good. She liked it better when people were just leaving her alone, doing her job. Not asking questions. Not praising her genius mind. For that genius mind came with a price and surely not a good one. Equivalent exchange, perhaps the gods and odds even worked that way.

“Your work is impressive” he put his elbows on the table and folded his hands before his chin “With such a perfect profile I thought you’d be working under a State Alchemist already, or a General even. Since this country is so keen on keeping alchemy within the military… You probably had an offer or two.”

True. All the research labs, scientists, doctors, professors that taught alchemy and any alchemy-related speciality were army affiliates. They had to if they wanted to actually work. It was the only thing Amy despised about her future job but that was still better than option A.  _ Being a State Alchemist _ . Her mom and dad’s wish. Which she never fulfilled. She picked Latin instead, it was said to be very hard, challenging. Amy accepted the challenge. Challenges kept her from thinking too much at least. 

“Yes, I had” she leaned back in her chair “Some even offered more money that you actually do. But I turned all them down, I had no interest in what they were offering. I’m not in for the money or the titles, I just want to work on something that interests me.”

“I feel honored, then.”

“I wouldn’t if I were you” she smirked at him “I’m pretty much implying I’ve more interest in your manuscript than in yourself.”

“Oh but you’ll find me interesting, you’ll see” he paused and frowned as if he was trying to gage her mood “I know there are things you don’t want to tell me. Or you want to tell me but something’s stopping you, I don’t know. Please, don’t deny it. You tried to explain something yesterday perhaps but it was too confused. Or I just didn’t get it” he smiled, sadly “It’s fine, you don’t have to tell me anything. Except if I happen to cross any line. I don’t want to offend you, less do something that could be triggering for you.”

What was he saying? Why was he so serious about it? They were supposed to work a text, be colleagues, work partners, nothing intimate. Okay, she might have drunk a little too much yesterday, she might have confessed a little too much, talked a little too much about herself. Okay, it wouldn’t happen again anyway. He didn’t have to act so protective all the time, she wasn’t a child. And she surely wasn’t close to him in any kind. Even if their faces were yesterday. 

“I can take care of myself, Colonel. I don’t need you to protect me.”

“I’m a soldier, though. It’s my job to protect” he hissed “And I know you want to talk about it all, you implied so much last night, and then you went like  _ it’s nothing  _ or  _ none of my business. _ If all you need is a safe place, I can make it for you.” 

“I don’t need anything.” 

Could he stop being a bother? Hello, they had been drinking last night, of course she would have implied  _ stuff!  _ He almost kissed her too! Would he have done it if he hadn’t drunk a little too much, fatigue not really helping? Why wasn’t he mentioning it, uh? Or trying to explain or excuse himself even? Because last night... Last night was different! Last night was… to be forgotten. 

“Not even a drive home? There’s a serial killer on the loose, you know” he smirked.

“Scary” she answered with more teasing “But from what the papers said, he only targets State Alchemists so I guess I’ll pass.”

“Touché” he giggled “Too bad, I was just being a gentleman, offering to drive a lady home.”

She laughed though a shiver went down her spine. Talking to him was easy, way too easy. He was a sharp officer, he had already noticed something was bugging her. She couldn’t let him get any closer.

For his own sake. 


	6. Reflare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> To blow back

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey. Since next Tuesday is Christmas and the Tuesday after New Year unfortunately I won't be able to post on those very days for obvious reasons :) So here's the schedule for the two weeks to come if everything goes right  
> Chapter 7 on Saturday 29th  
> Chapter 8 on Thursday 3rd  
> Chapter 9 will be on Tuesday 8th and then I'll go back posting on Tuesdays as usual.  
> Happy holidays everyone, may you have a great time <3

At university the news had spread like wildfire. Well, to be completely honest, Amy expected that. She expected their resentment, the military wasn’t exactly liked nowadays. She expected their jealousy, she had been noticed by the most promising element in the East Area. And she was a girl, and he was a guy. So it was  _ also  _ those kind of rumors. Especially since she was obviously bonding with him. With the very good-looking skirt chaser Flame Colonel, so yeah, people were gossiping.

She did see him with a woman, once or twice. But he never made a move at  _ her _ again. 

It was different. He was an unexpected easy man to talk to, even on personal matters. His seductive attitude had become a private joke as much as her bad habit of turning everything into a metaphysical debate. And they were making progress on the text, actually. They had their arguments and all but they were making progress. They had their arguments but they never talked again about Amy, or about himself either. 

They were colleagues, good colleagues. Friends, perhaps.

Nothing else.

She leaned back into her chair, closing her eyes and listening to the thunder rumbling outside. She liked storms, their violence, the flashes, the rain pouring. Paradoxically it was soothing her. A voice drew her back to reality.

“Slacking off, Miller?” he said with that usual smug face of his.

“I could ask you the same, Colonel.”

“Well” he took the seat before her “With such weather, deployments were cancelled so I finished early.”

“Roy Mustang’s worst enemy” she looked outside dreamily “Water, the very source of life, how ironic.”

“So you do know my name, uh” he smirked at her “I was started to doubt it since it’s always Colonel this, Colonel that.”

Yes, he too had a name, she knew that. And he would surely like it better if she used it instead of reminding him his rank, his dog of the military status and the fact he was a human weapon who killed a lot of people and got promoted for it. But she couldn’t, not in public. Being called a  _ military whore _ by her classmates was enough. She couldn’t in private either, even if she was getting more at ease around him, less fidgety. She couldn’t forget how close his face was to hers on that night. Or how eager to touch her he always seemed. 

“I’m sorry but that’s your rank” she said with a voice in which irony pervaded “I’m all about respect, you know.” 

“You don’t say” he put before him the manuscript and their previous notes “How are you holding up?” his tone and his face had become very serious.

“Good” she arched an interrogative brow, putting away the work she was doing “Why? Is there something I should know?” 

“Not really. I’m just… pretty aware of the reputation I ended up with” he flipped a few pages, not looking at her “I was just wondering if you had been the subject of rumors and how you were holding up.”

He knew. He had heard. Obviously. Or he wouldn’t be asking. How thoughtful. Well, that wasn’t very much of a surprise. That was just how much he actually cared about the people around him, his own men especially. How could he climb the ladder with such a kind heart, she wondered. This softness would be the end of him someday, she was ready to bet on it. 

“Don’t worry, I’m fine” she grabbed the sheet he was holding out to her and started to scan the verses “I don’t really care. Of course, it’s not pleasant but… but they never liked me anyway. I’m the top-student of my class, it never helps you making friends. Plus, I’m a little weird, with my metaphysical overthinking and over-productive imagination so I never fitted in a group. I do have friends though, we just don’t travel in pack.” 

“What kind of fools are they to deprive themselves of your charming company?” he purred, his sparkling eyes meeting her annoyed ones, he cleared his throat before becoming serious again “Who is  _ the god with the golden crook _ ?”

“Mercury” she answered, ignoring his teasing “It’s at the masculine caesura, it’s probably the most important element of this sentence if it’s emphasized this much.” 

“What the hell is masculine caesura?”

“A break after the first syllable of the third foot” she paused to point it out on the manuscript “Here, you see, first, second, third foot, first syllable. Basically, it’s an emphasis within the verse, the name  _ masculine _ doesn’t really hold a meaning, it’s mostly just a label.” 

“That could work…” he rubbed his chin “Except there’s an awful risk of blowback. If I put it like that…” he drew down a transmutation circle “Ah, too bad… this is still highly unstable.”

“What did you think?” she waved her pen “We only translated half of it and we barely managed to decipher ten lines.”

“Yeah, I know…” he rubbed his forehead, he looked tired all of a sudden “I guess I didn’t want to work on that today, that’s all” he glanced at the circle he drew “There’s no way this could work properly.” 

“We don’t have to work on the manuscript everyday” she put down her pen “You don’t have to come here everyday, you already work a lot.”

“It’s fine” he cut her, leaning back in his chair “I wanted… to see you anyway.” 

“Wh-What?” Amy could feel her cheeks blush, that was so unexpected.

“I’ve… important matters to discuss, we should go somewhere private” he sounded a bit out of it.

Even if they were whispering, libraries were terribly silent. And people were always eavesdropping. They got up in awkward silence, put the books back on the shelves and left the library. Leaving together like that wouldn’t help with the rumors. Nothing they could do would help with the rumors. They ran to his car, the rain was still pouring. He offered to take her home and she nodded in agreement. He had driven her back to her place a couple of times already, he knew the way. He started the engine in a sigh, he looked truly exhausted.

“You had something to tell me?” she asked, her voice a little insecure.

“Yes, I’m going to be…” he rubbed his forehead “Transferred to Central in the following weeks.” 

“Oh, I see” she sighed with relief, good it was just to pass on information “A promotion? Well, I guess congratulations are in order.”

“Sort of, and thank you” he rubbed his forehead again, there was more to it, obviously “I’m taking all my assets with me, that includes you.”

“I’m sorry?” she let out mockingly “I’m not one of your subordinates, Colonel. You can’t move me around as you please. I’m just an affiliate, I can easily resign.”

“I’ve entrusted you with my research, I can’t leave you behind” he turned his face to look at her in the eye, he was dead serious “I won’t take no as an answer.”

“Colonel” she sighed “I…”

She couldn’t finish her sentence. He hurriedly pulled her into a hug and ran his fingers through her short brown hair. Her face ended up against his shoulder and all she could smell was his scent. And that of the rain that lingered on the fabric of his uniform. Her eyes widened, her first reflex was to protest. This was… tender, caring, affectionate. Needy too, he had refrained from doing so since so long. And a bit sad, as if it was the first and the last time he’d hold her this close. And the last person who held her like that… She shivered, tried to push him away. But his arms were firm even if his fingers were gentle. 

“Let go” her voice was quivering with worry “Don’t touch me!”

“Please come with me” his voice was soft, almost begging “I’d like to have you around, alongside everyone” his hands gripped on her a little tighter “So I can keep an eye on you, so I can protect you as well…” 

Her heart was beating. Fast. Loud. What was he saying? Why was he touching her? She didn’t like that. If the only thing he wanted was to have her in his bed… No, she knew it wasn’t that. He could have seduced her a thousand times if he wanted to. He could have slept with her a hundred if it was what he was looking for. No, it was something more, it was… 

“Let me go…” she tried to move away but he really was strong, her panic was increasing, she didn’t like it “Colonel, I…”

“What’s wrong?” he pulled back to look at her and she used the opportunity to break free from his embrace “Amy, are you okay?” 

_ Amy? _ Her first name? His voice echoed in her head.

_ But you have no right! _

_ You have no right to touch me if you’re gonna leave me! _


	7. Vir qui non ausus est

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The man who didn't dare

“Amy, are you okay?”

He held out a hand to touch her cheek but she slapped it away. Come on, it was just a hug, did she truly have to react like that? Friends hug too. She rubbed her arms and looked down. Her panic wasn’t easing at all. Why was he asking? And what could she tell him? How could she talk about something she never told anyone before? And why was he getting so close anyway? She told him she didn’t like being touched!

“Don’t do that again” she spat, rubbing her own skin some more, keeping her head down for she was too ashamed to look at him in the eye.

“That was just…” he sighed “Nevermind. Sorry, I didn’t know a simple hug could be triggering. You just… looked so sad, I wanted...” he pinched the bridge of his nose “Nevermind.”

“Don’t act like you know me, Colonel!”

How dared he! She wasn’t one of those girls he was…  _ dating _ ! She looked sad, uh? Why would she be sad over? Him leaving? Well, he wished! He was just interpreting signs that weren’t even here in the first place. 

“I do know you!” he answered angrily “After all the hours we worked together, the meals we shared, the drinks we had, the subjects we discussed, there’s no way I don’t know you. I don’t know all of you, of course, but I’ve seen enough to care about you.”

“Yeah” she hissed “Whatever…”

“Don’t you…” he violently grabbed her by the collar, his eyes were glimmering with anger “Don’t push me away because I got a little too close, I know this is what you’re trying to do.” 

“You don’t know anything…”

“You’re afraid of getting attached, aren’t you?” his face was dangerously drawing closer to hers “This is what this no-physical-contact policy is about, right? This is why you won’t go to Central, even if it’s a great opportunity and nothing ties you down to East City.”

“You don’t know anything!” she repeated between clenched teeth. 

“So enlighten me!” he let go of her clothing, pulling back a little “Let me help you.”

“Just drive the car…” she waved an annoyed hand “Just drop me home. This conversation is over.”

He sighed and patted her on the head. The gesture was meant to be kind and caring but something snapped in her all the same. It felt intrusive, she felt disgusting. She wanted to yell as self-loathing thoughts urged into her mind. She wanted to yell, loud, oh so loud. And where his hands had been, her skin was burning, burning, burning… And the words he said, they looped and looped in her head. Why couldn’t he leave her alone? Why couldn’t he leave her behind? Why did he care? Wait until he sees how...

Her train of thoughts was interrupted by a firm grip on her left wrist. She glanced at him and all she can see was dread. His lips were moving, trembling a little, but she couldn't hear what he was saying. Nothing felt real. Nothing at all. Except for the burning sensation on her forearm. Burning? Forearm? Oh, so she had been doing this again… She had been scratching herself to the point of drawing blood. Again.

“Stop it…” she heard him now “Please stop that…” 

Her forearm was completely exposed, revealing the burns such bad habit had left on her skin, something she usually concealed under her clothing. Alongside a few cuts, more or less healed. She got free from his hand and hid them away in shame. But the damage was already done. Now he knew. Now it was too late, oh way too late. At least it should be enough to have him back off. 

“I told you you didn’t know me…” she tried to keep her voice firm.

“I am…” he stopped mid-sentence “I don't…”

“You don't have to say anything, Colonel” she tugged on her sleeve as if it'd make a difference now “That's okay.”

“I…” he pinched the bridge of his nose “I'm going to buy you a train ticket to Central. You'll go to my friend’s, Hughes: his place will be your lodgings by the time you find your own place. The transfer shouldn't be a problem, then you'll be settled by the time I arrive and…”

“What are you saying?” she smirked at him, touching her wounds through the fabric “I can't go back to Central…” she lowered her head “It’ll just be worse.”

“Go back?”

“My parents live there. I used to live there. Three years ago…” she flashed him a sad smile “It feels like a lifetime away.”

“What happened?”

“I ran away… Not literally. Bad things happened and…” she travelled her fingers under her clothing and rubbed her fresh scratches “And I ran away. Except I didn't know my problems would follow me. It’s not something I want to talk about, Colonel.”

He pulled her into a hug again, even gentler this time. And his hands were trembling. He didn’t know what to do. His gestures were betraying his confusion. He also knew he shouldn’t touch her this much but it was as if he couldn’t help himself. His hands wandered erratically on her body, for he just didn’t know what to do. But he was desperate just to  _ do something _ . Anything. To help her, to ease her pain. Or perhaps to ease  _ his  _ pain. And Amy couldn’t blame him. Even if being touched like that just felt  _ wrong _ . He was trying, she knew he was trying. Not touching her skin, just gripping on her coat, even burying his face against the clothing so he wouldn’t go too far. Amy couldn’t pretend she didn’t notice. It all felt like that night when he almost kissed her. Despair, it felt like pure and utter despair. 

And Amy wanted to yell. 

“Colonel...” she whispered.

She shyly wrapped her arms around his shoulders, the fabric of the uniform was rough. And she travelled a hand up to pet his black locks. His clothes, his hair were wet and the rain outside was still pouring, heavy. She started to think they were having a moment, just the two of them, apart from the rest of the city. It was so quiet, it felt like the world had ended and they were the sole survivors. And his hands went to cup her face, and he rested his forehead against hers. She was expecting it. In fact, her entire body was yearning for it. And her mind just wanted to run away.

“Colonel…” she said again, maybe to encourage him, maybe to brace herself.

She expected it. A kiss. Their lips weren’t inches apart, they were closer than that. And hers were parted already. She shouldn’t let him. But she was weak as well. She too was that desperate just to _do_ _something_. Anything. To kill the anxiety that was overwhelming her. And with their forehead against each other’s, with their noses rubbing together, it would be the most logical conclusion. Except the kiss never came. Except he pulled back and let go of her. Except he never took that leap. 

_ Why? _

_ I’m offering myself to you, can’t you see? _

_ Why don’t you just take me? _

“I'm sorry” he whispered “You don't have to come to Central. I don't want to put you in a stressful position, I don't want you to hurt yourself again” he started to drive “That really was selfish of me.”

Amy wasn’t sure he was still talking about Central here. 

“That's not your fault” she looked by the window to carefully avoid his gaze “I never talk about that, there's no way you could have known.” 

“You can talk to me about it, you know. Like I said, I am here for you.”

“I appreciate, Colonel, I really do. But I can't. I just… can’t.” 

Her voice broke on the last word and crumbs of her memories flashed into her brain. Red hair. The first notes of a song. Fingers entwined together. The blue wallpaper of her room at home. The strange feeling of healed scars under her hand. Burns, the sensation of her body burning. The rain, the heavy rain of a storm. A smile. A very bright smile. The smell of earth. The sound of distant crying. Bits of a speech she made. 

And the Colonel’s scent, the Colonel’s warmth, the Colonel’s hands, the Colonel’s...

“Don't push yourself too hard, okay?” he said and she felt his hand squeeze her shoulder in a comforting gesture “You don't have to tell me anything. Just… I'm here, if you want to. I won’t go. Well, at least not too far...”

Tears. Pain. Physical pain. Mental pain. Distress. Anxiety. The urge to cut deeper, deeper, deeper, deeper. The feeling of a weight pressing down on her chest. She couldn't go back to Central. There was no way. 

She couldn’t go where  _ he _ was going. No way. 

“Thank you” she answered with a strangled voice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hoped you all had a happy Christmas <3  
> See you on Thursday 3rd for next chapter so early happy new year!


	8. De ejus perturbato animo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Of her confused feelings

Amy was lying on her back, on her couch, a book resting on her chest. She was staring in blank. Yesterday felt unreal. Terribly unreal. His hands on her, on her face, on her skin, his scent, the feeling of his wet hair under her fingers. His lips, so close. And her own desire, her entire body craving his touch. Her entire mind yelling she wasn’t deserving it.  _ No love for the guilty _ . She blinked. The recent wounds on her forearm felt pretty real though.

She rolled down on her side and whined as the book dropped on the floor with a thud. Knocks. On her door. Nobody ever knocked. So, what now? She got up and put the book on the small table. She took a deep breath and braced herself before opening the door. Deep inside she knew. So when she opened the door she wasn't really surprised to see the Colonel standing there as if on official business. 

“Good evening” his tone was so formal “Sorry if I'm bothering you but…”

“It's fine, I was just reading” and so was hers “Please, come in.”

She made way to let him through. As he passed in front of her, she could feel it. The tension. Of course, that was bound to happen. It also was the very reason why Amy didn't go to the library today. She had been avoiding him, basically. 

“Make yourself comfortable, do you want something to drink?” she offered.

“Sure” he let out in a sigh, though he just took off his coat, talk about a way of making oneself comfortable! “What are you offering?”

“Coffee…” she waved at the table “You can sit, you know.”

“Thank you” he put his coat onto the back of the chair and sat down, he looked tired “Don't you have something stronger than coffee? If you don't mind…”

He probably just needed a little something to get himself to talk to her. And who was she to blame him anyway? She had been avoiding him. And she had been doing worse than just drinking.

“Wine” Amy opened a cupboard “White wine.”

“Nothing stronger?”

Wow, he needed a  _ big  _ something, okay. 

“Ahem… I don’t know” she glanced inside “I’ve that herb-thing spirits but I’m not sure it’ll be to your liking. It’s very sweet… Tastes a bit like medecine too.” 

Surely not his type of liquor, he was more of a whiskey guy. And of course she didn’t have any of it at home. Even if he had been here a few times already. Even if she knew what he liked to drink most. As if she was keeping him away from her most intimate place, even in the smallest details. 

“Is it strong?” 

“Terribly” she pulled out the bottle “It's a digestive.”

They both remained silent as she drew out from a closet two very small glasses made for such strong liquors. Fancy, with a tiny golden rim around the edge. And also a gift. Not really Amy's type of things, a bit too old-fashioned, but she wasn't rude enough to turn it down. They still remained silent as she poured them drinks with a precision that somehow betrayed a force of habit. Not that she was drinking much. But her part-time job had been being a waitress.

“Digestive before dinner, that's a first” the Colonel chuckled as she slid an almost full glass before him.

“You don't have to do everything by the book, you know” Amy couldn't help smiling as she sat down as well “At least not with me.”

“Sorry” he smiled back “I’m a bit nervous.”

Nervous? Yes, probably. He was the one who initiated that embrace, that pure act of proximity. After months of making sure not to invade Amy's safe space. After months of making sure he wasn’t too physically close or emotionally prying. He had been careful, she couldn’t deny him that. More than careful, he had been a perfect gentleman. A man raised right: Roy Mustang loved women, and because of that he was respecting them. And now the very reason why he was probably self-loathing: yesterday's attitude wasn't a gentleman’s. It was spontaneous and emotion-packed enough to crack Amy's defense walls. 

“Holy shit!” he let out after he took a big gulp of the green liquor “You weren't lying!”

“Idiot!” she giggled “Not that fast!”

Just a crack in her defense walls. It was  _ just a crack _ , she wouldn't break, she  _ wouldn't  _ break. And surely not now. And surely not  _ right now _ . His eyes, though. There was so much fondness in them. And pain. Utter pain. Again, Amy wanted to yell. Loud. That was bad.

“Sorry” he laughed and, Amy hated to admit that, she liked it when he was laughing “It’s…”

“Very peculiar” Amy made the green liquid swirl around the small glass before taking a small sip “Told you.”

That was bad because it was terribly easy to talk with him. Even despite the strong tension pervading the room. Even if she could feel how bad he wanted to grab her hand. But he just straightened up and pulled out from his inner pocket an unsealed envelope he put on the table before her.

“What is that?” she arched a brow.

“A train ticket. To Central. I phoned Hugues too.”

“You what?” she was more shocked than angry at this point.

No way no way no way no way… No way! She couldn't go there, she couldn't follow  _ him _ . He was confusing her, everything about him was confusing her. That was bad because  _ he  _ was starting to care. And all she wanted was… She bit on her lower lip. To gain some composure she opened the envelope and took a look at the ticket. First class. No shit.

“The choice is yours. You don't have to go. Not if you don't want to.”

But his tone was saying the exact opposite. Why? What did he want from her? Couldn't they just sleep together, as if she was just another woman amongst the others? Why was he treating her any different? What did she show that made him want to treat her different? 

“I'll think about it.”

She lied. Her decision was made. Her life, her daily routine, her security. Central was too full of reminders. Oh yeah, also her parents lived there. 

“No need to have your friend mixed up into this. If I choose to go, I still have my parents.”

Even if living with her parents, only for a little time, would feel like regression. 

“No” this time he held out a hand to take hers, she didn't protest, she had opened that door by allowing him to touch her yesterday “Like I said, I don't want to put you in a stressful position. The Hughes are nice, you'll see. You can call them. They’ll be more than happy to have you.You'll feel like home. ”

But that was exactly what frightened her. Feeling _like_ _home_. She just smiled and took another gulp of her drink, larger than before. 

“I saw how you looked when you mentioned your family” his thumb gently stroked her skin, she squeezed back “Frightened. And that's not gonna happen. Amy, look at me” she obliged, when did he start using her first name so casually? “Not on my watch.”

“Colonel…” she wanted to withdraw her hand but his grip got firmer “Colonel, I…”

“It’s okay” he was making shushing sounds now? how pathetic she must look then! “Amy, you don’t have to tell me anything, not today” not today? but someday, right? “I just want you to feel safe.”

What an idiot! What kind of words were those? She didn’t deserve  _ good _ , she didn’t deserve  _ safe _ ! And she surely didn’t deserve a  _ home _ , less talking about  _ love _ ! Love? Wait…

“Amy” he emptied his drink, looking at her straight in the eye “Amy, I…”

“Don’t say it!” she shouted, springing up from her chair.

Panic rushed into her veins and her heart beat, beat, beat, beat. Wait a second, wait a fucking second. Amy just wanted to flee. Far, far away. Whatever he had to say, she didn’t want to hear it. She wasn’t ready to hear it. To hear him say how much he cared. 

“Hey!” 

She moved away but he was fast. Before she could do anything he caught her and now he was holding her. Her face was buried in his clothing. In his scent. It smelt a bit like ash too. Practice, maybe. But Amy didn’t shy away, she didn’t even try to push him away. She just gripped onto him. Hard. Terribly hard. Her knuckles were white.

“It’s okay” he kissed her on the temple “It’s okay, I’m here. I won’t let anyone hurt you. Don’t worry.”

It was too much. Why was he caring? All she wanted was… To be destroyed. Or saved. Or maybe something in between. Destroyed and recreated. As a god-like alchemist would do.

“Not anyone” he repeated “Not even yourself.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Late happy new year to everyone! I hope your winter break was enjoyable <3   
> I'll go back posting on Tuesdays as usual starting next chapter :) thank you


	9. Domum redire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Coming home

Amy watched the landscape through the window. The sound of the train was hypnotizing. Why did she accept again? Her stomach was completely knotted. She wouldn’t have the strength to face her parents and she probably looked half-dead already. Why did she accept again? Probably because he just showed up with a train ticket and his friend’s phone number. Probably because she knew anywhere would feel the same. Probably because that hug gave her more hope than she cared to admit. Probably because she just wanted to be saved. Probably because she just wanted to see that name on a grave again. To make sure it was real. 

Or at least as real as him kissing her face. She had been thinking about it. Way too much, to be honest. Ending up in his arms was one thing: Amy always craved attention and validation, like a dog craves petting. But that… Between the aborted kiss in the car and this one on her temple the day just after, he was getting too close. Too soon. And she didn’t want him that close. Not anyone, not again. That would just taste bitter, like betrayal. 

She sighed as she started to recognize the buildings. So, Central… She sighed again, got up and grabbed her suitcase. If she had been told she were to be here again…

_ So, I guess I'm home. _

She walked down the platform to the station, trying to ignore the crowd that was making her feel even less at ease, looking around for the so-called Maes Hughes. He could have at least shown her a photograph, did the Colonel know how many people were going through Central Station everyday? She glanced and caught green eyes behind glasses. She stared at the man a bit: tall, brown hair, a bit of a goofy smile, he could fit the description she had been given. Well, who wouldn't? And he was wearing civilian clothes, she couldn't be sure. Wait, was he… waving at her? She arched a brow. Yeah, maybe it was him after all. She walked in his direction. She hoped she wasn’t making a mistake, she wasn’t in the right state of mind to endure embarrassment now. The last thing she wanted was to cry before a stranger. 

“Lieutenant-colonel Maes Hughes, I presume?” she asked.

“No need to be so formal” he scratched the back of his head and waved an embarrassed hand “You're Amy Miller, that's right?”

“Yes, thank you for having me.”

She followed him to his car as he went on talking about his wife, his kid, how cute and lovely they were. She cracked a smile, fondly. Perhaps not so fondly. Right, family. She could have gone to her family as well. She should have gone to her family instead of a stranger’s. But she didn't have the guts. They wouldn't understand. Her mother would yell at her. Her father would remain silent. Her brother would just give her an awkward hug. But none of them would understand the reason behind those wounds on her body. None of them would understand why she didn't want to come back home. Not that Amy was holding any grudges, she just didn’t want to have them worry about her. She didn’t want to have anyone worry about her. Especially not that Hugues guy or even the Colonel. 

“Roy told me you have family here” Hughes said as he opened the car for her “I can take you to see them if you want.”

“No, that's fine, thank you” she said as she put her suitcase in the trunk “Maybe another day.”

“Anytime.” 

He smiled and she understood what the Colonel liked in him: Hughes was nice, caring and truly outgoing. Amy felt at ease with him. He was probably a good husband. And a better dad. She felt like she could tell him anything and he would still try to help her no matter what. Not like she would tell him anything though. She tugged on her sleeves to make sure her wounds were well hidden, that wasn’t the moment to ruin the mood. They talked about a lot of things: her work, his family, a few jokes. She avoided tricky subjects such as her own family, the reason why she had left Central in the first place, and obviously the Colonel Roy Mustang. But she probably didn't avoid them enough.

“I can see why he has fallen for someone like you” Hughes said, out of the blue.

“I'm sorry?” Amy arched a brow.

What kind of language was that?  _ Fallen _ ? He wasn’t implying that the Colonel could be  _ in love with her _ , that would just be ridiculous! 

“You seem like a strong, very purposeful person. You know what you want from life, for your future. It probably reassures him more than you think, to know that you’re standing on ground solid enough to support the both of you.”

Her? On solid ground? Okay, he definitely was joking. Or at least it meant her acting was  _ that _ good to lure everyone. And what was that bullshit about supporting him as well? As if that full of himself stupid bastard hadn’t enough willpower on his own! 

“I don't understand” her voice quivered, for she was afraid to actually  _ understand  _ what he was implying “We just work together.”

And that sure sounded like a lame excuse to come up with.

“For real?” there was genuine surprise in his voice “But when he phoned me, I was sure you were… nevermind.”

She pinched the bridge of her nose. Well, he was holding her very intimately the last time they saw each other and she surely was dying for that kiss but it was just despair. Even if he hugged her again when he gave her the train ticket and she had noticed the slight smell of ashes lingering on his uniform. He had also looked at her arms, making sure she was healing, making sure there was nothing new. There wasn't. At least not on her arms.

“He just said he was taking all his assets with him, me included” she said in a detached tone “He didn't exactly leave me with a choice either. That’s all there is between us.”

“That sure sounds like him” he laughed, parking in front of a building “Come on, time to meet my wonderful wife and daughter!”

She remained silent as he told her some more about the women of his life, obviously avoiding a subject he now knew to be sensitive. She was starting to think he was overdoing it but it turned out Gracia was just as amazing as she was told, and Elicia just as cute. Amy was feeling at home, they were all treating her so nicely she felt like the biggest fraud. What was she doing here? And why couldn't she feel this way with her own parents? She put her suitcase down and lied down on the bed. She stared at the wooden ceiling for a while and closed her eyes. She might have fallen asleep since a small hand tugging at her vest woke her up.

“Mama says it's time to eat” Elicia said with a smile “She made quiche!”

“I like quiche” Amy answered, stretching a little.

She got up and considered leaving her vest here to put on something lighter but the little girl was looking at her with sparkling eyes. Well, later. She wasn't that hot anyway. And she surely didn't want such a small child to see something like  _ her arms _ . Elicia patted the chair next to hers.

“Amy, you sit here!” she cutely ordered.

“Elicia!” Gracia started to scold her “Don't be rude to our guest.”

“It's fine” Amy smiled and took the seat “She's just a bit excited.”

She held out a hand and stroked the little girl’s hair, making sure her sleeve was still covering everything neatly. The meal was delicious. She didn't have to force herself to smile and the knot in her stomach loosened a little. If only her family could be just like the Hughes… Well, she wouldn't have left to begin with. She was drying the dishes with Gracia when the phone rang. 

“It's for you” Hughes said “It’s Roy.”

She nodded, went to the living room and picked up the receiver with a sigh. He saw her this morning at the station, what could he still want?

“Don't tell me you miss me already” she faked annoyance.

“Why?” he playfully purred “Do you miss me?”

“You wish! Feels like holidays. The Hughes are nice and they surely don't ask me to translate extra Latin!”

“Good” she heard him chuckle and then sigh with obvious relief “I'm happy to hear that.”

So he was worried. That wasn't really much of a surprise, she was terribly stressed out when she left. They talked some more and when she hung up she caught Elicia’s eyes, glimmering with joy.

“Amy! Come play with me!”

Yeah, it surely felt like home.


	10. Familia

It had been an exhausting week. Amy had visited dozen of apartments and she was still hesitating. Not to mention she had met with her family a couple of times because she just couldn't stay in Central and ignore them. It went better than expected: even if she couldn't really come up with a reason for her return to the capital, she kept a straight face that betrayed nothing of her distress. Even when her mother asked her if she had come by the cemetery yet. Even when she brushed her fingers alongside her scars though the fabric of her shirt, they didn't notice a thing.

And it was getting worse around the Hughes. They were still nice and treating her like a member of their family and that was the problem. Because they weren’t her family. And she had come to realize she only felt at ease in their home because they weren’t her parents, because she wasn’t their daughter, because Elicia, no matter how cute she was, would never be her little sister. She was at ease because she was just  _ playing _ house. What kind of a fraud was she? She was happy around them though.

That was probably the worst. 

Gracia had given her a spare key. She came home late, at night, after a few drinks in the bar she used to go to… before all  _ this _ . Coming back to Central was such a bad idea, all her bad habits were coming back. And everyone who recognized her asked her where was her friend with the red hair. So she drank some more and was always coming back at indecent hours. Gracia noticed but said nothing. The Lieutenant-Colonel noticed and said nothing either. And everybody kept playing house.

There were also moments where Amy just stayed in her room, doing nothing but watching the ceiling. Thinking. Making her arms and belly shine with a pretty shade of red when she reached the point where she couldn't even bare with her own self. Those moments occurred often. Amy kept finding reasons: the Colonel, the fact she wasn't matching her family expectations. And her past. Now she was back in Central it was just hitting her like a wave. And she was drowning in memories. Happy, bad memories. 

“Amy” she heard Hughes gently knock at her door “Do you have a minute?”

Well, obviously. She couldn’t focus enough to work on her thesis so she was just pretending to be busy. If her director asked, she'd just say she wasn't able to manage both her research and moving out. She could have, if she were in her normal state of mind. So she had a minute. Except she had been staring at the blood running down her arm onto a white piece of fabric for the past ten minutes. And the bleeding wouldn't stop that easily. 

“Amy?” he repeated.

“Just a second.”

She pressed hard on her wounds and gritted her teeth. The trick was not to put blood on anything but the fabric. She was using swaddling clothing, and her periods, as an excuse for having blood on her things. Her periods, what a joke! She should have a clean one left in her suitcase, she had thought of everything when she packed. Even of the things she'd need if she were to harm herself. So if she tied it around her arm very tight and pulled her sleeve over it'd…

“Amy?” she jolted when she heard his voice again, quivering with worry “Is everything okay?”

“Y-Yeah” shit her hands were shaking! “Just a second!”

She took a deep breath. She never was caught doing it: not by her parents, not by anyone. She was good at concealing. But the door wasn't locked and the man was a soldier: he probably  _ felt in his guts _ something was going on behind that door. And the door wasn't locked. There were no keys on the doors because of Elicia. 

“Oh my god” he let out in astonishment “Gracia, keep Elicia with you!” but he never lost it to panic “Keep the pressure hard” he ordered “Follow me.”

That was a trained officer for you. Amy obediently obliged, lowering her head. She didn't know what else to do. And that look in his green eyes was too hard to bare. He took her to the bathroom, washed and tended to her wound with professionalism. He probably learnt it all on the battlefield. And he probably never expected to have to do that again. On a civilian. Amy kept her head down, her stomach completely knotted. She wanted to apologize but her throat was dry. She couldn't even cry. She was too ashamed to have been caught. 

“Since how long?” 

“I don't remember when I did the first one” her voice was terribly low, broken “Years ago.”

Those things occurred in phases. Honestly, Amy had been doing pretty good so far, almost two years without relapsing. Until she met with the Colonel. Until that man drew his face so close to hers… She was blaming him. That was unfair but she was blaming him. 

“Does Roy know?” she jolted and tensed when he wrapped a tight bandage around her arm “Easy…” he really was soothing.

How lucky Elicia was to have such loving and caring parents!

“He…” she felt her cheeks blush “He saw them. He… avoided the subject.”

Of course. He had seen war, he had been on the battlefield. He surely saw, he surely did a lot worse than she. Her pain, her guilt were probably nothing compared to his. And still, she was the one…

“I bet” for a second Hughes’s voice didn’t sound that confident anymore “You’re your worst enemy. And Roy breaks when he can’t protect the ones he cares about” he sighed and smiled at her “I understand better why he was so desperate about you.”

“Desperate about me?”

“He called, one night, when you were out” he gently took her hands in his, with a tenderness Amy wished her father ever had with her “It's been a long time since I heard him sound so insecure.”

“I'm sorry” Amy went for the default, general, always appropriate answer.

“Don't apologize to me” he smiled at her like her own father never smiled at her “Apologize to Roy, he's the one worrying.”

_ I'm fine _ , she was about to say but he wouldn't believe such lie. Not after treating such wounds. The bandage was tight enough though, no spot of blood was to be seen. For some reason it made her feel terribly anxious. She blinked. Nothing felt real, the lights of the bathroom, Hughes’s voice. Even the hardness of the bathtub under her, making her thighs hurt and numb. Even the soft touch of his hands. Nothing. Except for the dreadful anxiety knotting up her stomach. She clung onto that, at the same time being awfully aware such episode first came from stress. But she was feeling like, if she didn't cling onto the one true feeling she had left, she would just disappear into thin air.

“It's okay” she heard his voice very close to her ear, she blinked, when did he take her in his arms? “You're home. You're safe.”

Yes. Perhaps. But he wasn't her father. He would never be. Home wasn't by her parents’ side. It never had been. Home was… 

_ Roy _ .

That was a first. His name. She never called him by his name before. Such a simple name, easy to say. And it meant so much. 

“I'm going to call him” she said in a voice that sounded too distant to be hers.

“Who?”

“Ahem…” no, she couldn't say it “The Colonel” she couldn't say his name. 

A name that meant strength. A name that meant power. A name that meant loyalty. 

“Is it too late?” she added, she had a bit lost the sense of time.

“No” Hughes giggled “He'd be happy to hear from you.”

“Okay.”

She got up a little too quick, put her hand on the wall to straighten up her balance. She was feeling lightheaded. And the bathroom’s lights were way too bright. So bright the entire house felt dark when she walked around to the phone. She caught sadness and pity in Gracia’s eyes, worry and concern in Elicia's. This had to stop. She was abusing their kindness. She picked up the phone and dialed his personal line. The receiver felt heavy in her hand.

“I'm Amy Miller, I'd like to speak to the Colonel Mustang. Yes, it's a work matter.”

It was good to be his underling for once, nobody asked questions. 

“What's wrong?” he asked without a greeting and she could tell by his tone only his brows were frowned.

“I don't feel so good” she confessed with surprising ease.

She never dared to say she needed him with her but every word she spoke conveyed such strong feeling. 

For  _ Roy _ meant  _ king _ . And  _ king _ and  _ kin _ are only one letter apart. 


	11. Sapientia pueri

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A child's wisdom

Amy hung up the phone in a sigh. That stupid Colonel… He really had to call her everyday, hadn't he? Messing up with her head, with her heart even more. How cruel of him it was. Making her yearning for his touch as he was miles away. As she didn't even deserve such kindness or consideration.  _ No love for the guilty. No salvation either.  _ Though that man kept repeating he was here to protect and save her. Amy’s brain was smart but her heart completely dumb. And she had hope. Her train of thoughts stopped when she felt a tiny hand tug firmly on her clothing. She looked down. Elicia. Yes, there was a child around.

“Amy…” the little one didn't look so good.

“What is it, sweetie?” Amy kneeled down and petted her head, pretending she was fine.

Pretending she didn't want to throw herself by the closest window. So the problem would be solved. As if it could be so easy.  _ But no atonement for the sinners. _

“Amy…” Elicia was fighting back tears, did she break something? did she get hurt, bumping into something? “Don't be sad.”

Don't be sad? Amy wanted to protest, to answer she wasn't. But that child matured quickly, with a father that had seen war. She probably knew how the masquerade worked, how much of a sham Amy was. And she was crying. Because Amy wasn't. Great. Where was the closest window again?

“Sorry” was all the adult she was found to say.

“Do you… miss Roy?” she tugged on the fabric harder “I miss dad. He works a lot.”

That was the worst. The sentences were short, the words were simple. But Amy understood all the complex feelings the little one was trying to convey: it was okay to miss the ones you loved, it was okay to want them home with you. A child’s wisdom. But Amy wasn't missing him. She was just wishing they had never met. She was just wishing they never created such complex and fucked-up bond. A bond that wasn't love. A bond that wasn't friendship. Just the need to be saved and the urge to protect. 

“Yes” then Amy lied “I miss… I miss Roy.”

She bit on her lower lip. It was weird somehow, not to call him by his military rank, not to even call him by his last name. It made her heart beat terribly fast. Like the one of a teenager in love. But Amy no longer was a teenager. And as for love… If love could take the shape of despair…  _ A fucked-up joke. _

“Don't be sad” Elicia repeated, throwing her little arms around Amy's waist “He'll come home too.”

Physical contact. Of course. A child doesn't have the words. Especially a child this young. Amy truly felt like crying, she felt like bursting into tears. Home.  _ Home!  _ She didn't have a home anymore. She surely didn't want one with the Colonel either. Though the tears never came. And she barely held back the child. Physical contact. Even from a child. Especially from a child. Unbearable. Children were too spontaneous for Amy. 

“Everything's fine?” Gracia asked with a gentle tone.

When did she come in? Amy didn’t even hear her. She just nodded as she rubbed Elicia’s back firmly. She looked like she was comforting her, but Amy was the one who needed comfort the most. The child had noticed Amy was doing  _ wrong _ , she noticed the  _ fraud _ . Good thing Amy wouldn't live here for long. Good thing Amy would never be a mother. What kind of example would she set? 

“I made some tea” Gracia added “Come” and now her tone betrayed she had too something to say.

Of course. Amy was doing wrong. That was very irrespective to the people who welcomed her. Very irrespective to their child.  _ The homecoming dilemma. _ That almost sounded like a psychosocial study. Which made Amy test subject number one. At least the tea smelt good and the pie yummy. But that didn't prevent Amy from feeling awkward when she sat down at the table. Elicia was here too, sitting at the end of the table, playing with one of her dolls, a glass of milk before her.

“Do you take any milk or sugar?”

“No, thank you.”

“Do you want some pie?”

“Yes, please.”

Amy wasn't hungry. That was all about courtesy. And Gracia’s food was always really tasty, it made things easier to swallow. Whatever blame, whatever reproach. It'd all go down better with a lump of sugar. Lucretius said to put honey around the cup that contains the bitter absinth to make it easier to swallow for the child. And for the Ancients, medicine and poison were the very same word. 

“You just look like him, after Ishval” Gracia calmly said, sipping on her tea “Lost.”

“Who?” Amy was so surprised by her sudden intervention she almost dropped her cup.

“My husband” she smiled sadly “He was pretending everything was fine when he was just trying to find himself back. He looked just like you. Running away from home.”

“I'm sorry” Amy whispered “I didn't mean to offend you or anything. I am sorry.”

“I don't blame you” her voice was soothing, like a mother’s should be, like Amy always wanted her mother’s to be “We don't blame you.”

“But coming home late, drunk. I…”

“Come on, you weren't drunk. Slightly inebriated at best” she was right: as if Amy would let herself lose control “And coming home late just betrays you don't want to come home. We never took it personally. After all you never went to your parents’.”

She was a good judge of characters. Well, she probably noticed the signs in her husband’s behavior years ago. It wasn’t hard when you knew them, Amy was a clinical case: isolation, mood swings, self-harming, reckless behavior, alcohol abuse, insomnia and so on and so forth. Inability to communicate. Unstable relationships, especially romantic ones. Disgust in physical contact. Clear evidence of emotional trauma. Amy had diagnosed herself. That hadn’t even been hard. She knew the cause. She just didn't know how to feel great again. 

“I am sorry” Amy said again, just because she felt like she  _ needed  _ to say something.

“Don't apologize” Gracia never made a move to touch her “You didn't fail us, on the contrary” but she was just being sweet before delivering the final blow “You're everything we could have hoped for Roy.”

“What?” Amy put the cup down in a clank “Stop… We're not together. We're not even a thing” her tone was sarcastic “He didn't even dare to kiss me!”

“You blame him” but Gracia remained so calm, always.

“Of course not!”

Of course yes! Because of him she had been thinking of it! The idea never crossed her mind before! But he… If it could just happen, turn prosaic so she could be disappointed and never wish for it again, she would feel  _ so much better _ ! She wouldn’t feel like a fraud at least. She probably wanted  _ him _ for the wrong reasons. She probably just needed attention. And she would care about him for what? A couple of weeks? A month? It happened before! She had feelings for people and then… and then she had no more. She wasn’t exactly emotionally stable. Not being in a relationship was the best, she wouldn’t hurt anyone this way. If she kept him at a distance, he’d be safe. If she kept him at a distance, she’d be safe.

“Amy, it doesn’t matter what you did. Roy was... you know. He’s probably…”

“Stop it!” Amy yelled “Just stop it! You don’t know what you’re talking about! You don’t know!”

She took her head in her hands. Stop. Just stop. The Colonel, Hughes, they might have seen war, they might have killed people. But they surely never abandoned comrades to die! And her… she just… And she wasn’t even a soldier risking her life on the battlefield! And she didn’t even have an excuse. Just selfish reasons. 

“Mom!” Elicia intervened, obviously terrified “Mom!”

“I'm sorry” Amy said, as if she just remembered a child was in the room.

“It’s okay, Elicia” the woman got straight up to take the child in her arms “Amy just don’t feel so good, that’s all. We talked about it, remember?” the girl nodded “You know I must talk to Amy so she won’t be sad, remember?”

The little girl nodded again. It was pure, innocent. Sincere. Everything Amy wasn't. Was she like that as a child too? If yes, when did the things start to go wrong? Amy couldn't even answer that last question. She dried her tears of anger on her sleeves.

“I'm okay, don't worry” she was about to say such blatant lie.

“Amy” but the child was quicker, but the child knew exactly what words to say “I love you.”

Simple, direct, effective. But it was the very thing Amy needed to hear. So she started to cry again. 


	12. Domus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Home", could also be read as "house"

The days were long. The days are long when you are trying. Not to crack, not to break. Helping out the Hughes with the house holding. Amy should have done that from the very beginning. If she hadn't thought about her own problems, selfishly. She also visited a hundred of flats and she couldn't picture herself in any of it. She couldn't picture her furnitures or even the photographs her friend took in it. She couldn't picture anything. She couldn't picture her having coffee with the Colonel. Not in any of them. Though she never really dwelled on the reason why she wanted to be able to picture her and him having coffee together.

Things had been a little tensed between the two of them since the day she called to tell him she wasn't feeling so good. She had tried but in the end was unable to tell him what was truly bothering her.  _ Not on the phone _ . That was the excuse she came up with. Amy was good at finding herself excuses not to get her problems solved. After all, she had been doing this her entire life.

She finally picked an apartment with a decent monthly rent, not too far from the University, not too far from the Military Headquarters as well. Because she had to pick one in the end. She wasn't sure she'd feel at home there. Ever. She wasn’t able to find that kind of perfect place - fourth floor, number four, four rooms - she was lucky to come across in East City. This one was on the second floor. And had three rooms. At least the bedroom was big and she'd be able to squeeze all her books in. Alongside her desk. Though she'd miss having a study. It'd be a little cramped. Things were expensive in Central. Even if the Colonel was giving her more than a decent paycheck. 

Her furnitures arrived faster than she thought and she ended up doing the one thing that seemed right: she threw out a housewarming party. Only her parents and the Hughes came and it was a bit awkward. She had a friend who lived in town but Amy was afraid her presence would only make things worse. Her brother took a good care of Elicia all along, he had always been good with kids. It was near midnight when the phone rang and she knew it was him before even picking up. He always was the one calling. She couldn’t bring herself to do it. She didn't want him to get attached. And at the same time she needed him. She wanted to lose herself in him. 

“Yes?” her voice remained stern despite it all.

_ I miss you,  _ her entire being was screaming. But her attitude betrayed nothing of her distress. Amy was also good at playing house. 

“Wait a sec…” she heard the sound of ruffled paper “On your apartment,  _ tibi gra… gratulor _ , shit, how do you even pronounce that?”

“Colonel…” she let out a little laugh “Are you drunk?”

“Yes… no… I only had a few drinks. It’s your housewarming party after all” she could feel him smirk against the receiver “My speech failed miserably though…”

“Yes, it did” she giggled a little more “But I appreciate…” she took a deep breath “I truly appreciate everything you're doing  for me, Colonel. Thank you.”

“Why so formal, Miller? It’s your party!” he cleared his throat before becoming serious as well “Is everything alright?”

“Yes…” she swirled the phone wire around her finger nervously “It just all feels a little weird” she smiled when her brother grimaced at her “Having my parents  _ home _ . But otherwise I feel okay.” 

“My transfer should be complete in a couple of weeks. You can still go to Hughes if you need anything…”

“Easy…” she teased “I’m really starting to think you miss me.”

“Because I do” she expected him to be charming and perhaps to flirt with her but not to be this direct “I mean, I worry about you, it’d be easier to have you around… Hughes told me… He told me it had been hard for you.”

“Colonel…”

She took a deep breath and squeezed the receiver. Yes, he would have told him. They were friends after all. And Amy was the Colonel’s responsibility. She shouldn’t blame Hughes. But she was. Why did he tell his friend such thing if he knew it would just hurt him? He wasn't the one to blame though: Amy was. Why did she do such thing if she knew it would just hurt him? Because this was how selfish she was.

“It’s my fault, I’m sorry” he sighed heavily “You said it’d be worse in Central, I should have listened… I should…”

“Colonel, please…”

_ It’s on me. I followed you there.  _

She wanted to bury her face against his clothes. She wanted to bury her face there and inhale his scent deeply. She wanted to feel that strong possessive grip of his on her again. At least just once. Be his. At least just one time.

“Colonel, please” she repeated “Don’t… Please don’t blame yourself.” 

“I must be really drunk, I’m sorry” he sighed “Amy, I…” he paused, she could feel him tense suddenly, as if he was about to say something really important “Nevermind” his voice almost died on this last word.

“You what?” 

Her heart beat faster, she clenched her fist around the wire.

Come on he didn’t mean anything by that.

Don't do that again, Amy, you know how it ended up last time. You're not up to the task. You know it clear as day.

You are  _ not _ made for love.

“Thank you for following me to Central. I… I really thought you would refuse. And I understand and… Thank you, for making that effort for me.”

“It’s nothing, I…”

She stopped mid-sentence, before spilling anything. She swore to herself she wouldn’t make that mistake again. But didn’t she already? After all, she was back in Central. All it took was a hug. And it was enough to make her hope, and it was enough to get attached. It was enough to break all the rules she had chosen to live by. But the warmth of his arms, the rough fabric of his uniform, the shape of his half-open lips on her temple, even the smell of ashes lingering on his clothes... Those were enough to make her shiver and want some more. 

But you're a mind, remember? A creature of thinking, not of Eros.

“It’s really nothing” she just repeated.

“I should leave you with your family. Send Hughes my regards. Take care of yourself, okay?”

“You too, Colonel” she really should stop calling him by his rank one day, but now she had picked up the habit... “Don’t drink too much.”

“You’re cute when you worry about me, you know” he purred. 

“Go home” she faked anger.

“Yeah, I call you tomorrow.”

“Sure, you do that.”

She hung up the phone and went back to her family. She went and faced their teasing remarks about her  _ boyfriend _ , especially on her little brother’s part. She didn’t try to deny their assumptions, it would just make things worse. She couldn’t really know if she genuinely cared and felt for him or was just hoping he could hold out a hand for her to take. She just didn’t know if she was falling in love with him or with the idea of being loved. By him. But at least she could have fantasies of being held, of being taken care of by him. At least she could have fantasies of being happy.

She could still hope after all, that wasn’t forbidden. 

She was dragged away from the group by a firm and yet gentle hand on her sleeve. And her eyes met with the Lieutenant-Colonel’s again. He seemed pretty serious even if the situation was suitable for goofiness: she wasn’t at ease and everyone was pretty much implying she was dating the mysterious guy on the phone.

“We need to talk” he whispered as they went on the balcony.

“About?” she managed to keep her voice firm. 

“Roy” he put his elbows on the railing “And you. I mean, I don’t judge you or anything. I don’t know your history but I sure know when someone has a bad time handling oneself and you…”

“But like you said, you don’t know my history.”

“Let me finish. I sure don’t know your history but you sure don’t know ours either. None of us came back from Ishval in one piece. Roy may look well but his hero complex is killing him. I count on you to be good support for him, to help him.”

“And how do I do that?” her voice was shaking “Why should I do that?”

“I don’t know” he confessed “And because that’s the only way I’ve found to handle myself.”

He turned around to glance at Gracia holding a sleeping Elicia in her arms.  


	13. Res gestae

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Military acts

_ People tend to use the expression ‘This is hell’ a little too often but, believe me, there, it was hell. The sand, the sun, the heat were, for starters, difficult to bear. It made the smells - blood’s, gunpowder’s, death’s - reek even more. It was easy to spot the new soldiers that had just arrived: they usually puked their guts out. I was no better. Though I didn't puke. But I couldn't swallow anything for days.  _

_ The feeling of not wanting to die kept me on my feet. It was a kill or be killed situation and I mostly counted on my basic instincts to keep me alive. The war wasn’t exactly fair but I didn't feel like I was slaughtering them. I still felt guilty, of course. But I managed to convince myself I was just defending and protecting my country. And Gracia. _

_ It was a lie, of course. _

_ I wasn't defending anything but Amestris’ sick ideals. We weren't defending anything but those sick ideals.  _

_ But as long as the battle remained on the human scale it was almost bearable. Almost. We were still killing innocent human beings after all. Women, kids that had no weapon in their hands. And for what? I'm not even sure, you know. _

 

***

 

Amy shivered. The air wasn't especially cold but she was trembling. With fear, perhaps. With anxiety, for sure. She gripped on the railway. She wasn't sure she wanted to hear that. She wasn't sure she needed to hear that. After all, there was nothing between her and the Colonel. They were just working together, sometimes having drinks to blow off some steam. Nothing that justified such an intimate confession about a man she barely knew.

Though she could remember vividly the sound of the rain pouring onto the windshield, the smell of the fabric of his uniform, soaked with rain, the wetness of his hair, when he embraced her. She could remember vividly how bad she had been yearning for that kiss. And how desperate she felt when it didn’t happen.

Was that enough to justify such an intimate confession from a man she knew even less?

 

***

 

_ The human weapons changed it all. Before, it was awful but still human. After… well then, after, regular soldiers like us were just contemplating a dreadful show of fire, gunpowder and annihilation. To gunshots added the transmutation sounds. We all had heard the rumors. But the real thing was more fascinating. In the bad sense of it. _

_ State Alchemists on the battlefield. It sounded almost unreal. Just like their way to fight. The war wasn't on a human scale anymore. It had been taken to the upper level. And most of them had high ranks, were used to battles and had developed special tactics. _

_ But one of them was very young and too idealistic. _

_ I hadn’t seen Roy since the Academy and nothing about him had really changed. Except his attitude. He was fidgety, on edge and when I first called his name, I thought he was about to set me on fire. _

_ What I saw in his eyes was unbearable. What I saw in mine, in my reflection, wasn't more bearable either. Mass murderers, is it really what soldiers are bound to become? _

 

***

 

“I…” Amy suddenly cut him, swallowing her saliva with difficulty “I'm not sure I want to know all that” she rubbed her forearms nervously “And aren't those classified matters?”

“You need to know” his voice was kind though “Roy will never tell you.”

“Still…” she lowered her head in embarrassment “I shouldn't stick my nose in such political matters. This is none of my business.”

“But it is…” he looked at her, frowning “Aren't you carrying out his research?”

“I'm a mere translator” her tone became neutral and detached “People like me just exist to provide alchemists, especially State Alchemists, with understandable research material and…”

“And you can't possibly believe that” she opened her mouth to answer but he was quicker “Roy couldn't work with someone who just believes that.”

She chuckled. Why everyone was acting as if they knew her? Hughes, the Colonel. Why? She just didn't want to know about the people he killed. She just didn't want to know about his trauma. She just didn't want to feel sympathy for such a self-content womanizer.

But Hugues didn't care. He kept telling her all the same. 

At least, one man had understood…

 

***

 

_ I was fascinated by his power. I know I shouldn't have been. But you know how Roy is. You know how Roy looks, when his pride takes over. If I ever was told this man could get even more gorgeous when he was wearing this grave sad face of his…  And, honestly, just knowing a snap of his fingers could trigger this much power was fascinating, not really helped thinking of him as a mere human.  _

_ I never said it was a good thing. And I never would.  _

_ Like every soldier during that conflict, Roy was quick to consider himself a human weapon. On top of that, he could hear the whispers of the people that had stopped looking at him as a human being. And from a human weapon, he became a killing machine.  _

_ And yet, he remained very human. Perhaps even more than anyone. Perhaps even more than me. _

_ At first he couldn't even sleep. I caught him wandering around, trying to find some peace of mind in a place everything was reminding us of what we were doing. I have spent countless hours, talking with him, offering him some booze one of the guys had managed to smuggle in. He just couldn't sleep, no matter how drunk he tried to get. _

_ And then the nightmares. He was sleeping with his ignition cloves under his pillow. Sometimes even, after a pretty rough mission, he wasn't even taking them off. I had stopped counting the times he almost cooked me medium rare because I came in unannounced or tried to wake him up from a bad dream. _

_ And knowing his master’s daughter was in that hell too sure wasn't helping him relax, or think about something that wouldn’t be the war. He was feeling like he was failing everything: his country, his loved ones, his ideals. _

 

***

 

“His master’s daughter?” Amy arched a brow, she knew about how alchemical knowledge was usually passed down but this was the first time she was hearing of that person.

“Riza Hawkeye, she’s Roy’s right hand, I thought you knew her already.”

“You mean the Lieutenant Hawkeye?” of course she knew about her, the Colonel had been bringing up her name quite often “He mentioned her but we never met.”

She was his personal aide or something, he often made jokes about how she would kill him for slacking off. So, she was more than just an underling. Amy tried to hide it but she felt a bit jealous some woman he trusted was being kept this close. Of course he would keep his loved ones close to him, of course he cared about other people than Amy. What was she thinking, uh? His attention and affection weren’t exclusively directed towards her. 

 

***

 

_ We all thought coming back to civil life would feel like salvation. That the war was over, that the war was behind. I had Gracia and somehow I managed to get back on my feet. Not for me, but for her.  _

_ Roy didn’t have anyone. Coming back to civil life was just hell. People called him a hero when he only saw himself as a mass murderer. Superiors were jealous of his ambition and abilities, underlings feared his dreadful power. And women wanted to sleep with the legendary Hero of Ishval.  _

_ So he was left with one thing to cling onto. His stupid idealism. _

_ He’s throwing himself into work, forgetting to eat, forgetting to sleep. Forgetting himself, mostly. It’s his own way to atone. _

 

***

  
  


“Sir” Amy started, glancing at him “I don’t really understand what you want me to do.”

What was the point in knowing all this? The Colonel always avoided that subject.  

“Don’t run away” Hughes’s voice remained very gentle until the very end “Roy loves you.”

“He does what?”

She giggled nervously, her eyes widened with realization. She didn’t hear that. She surely didn’t hear that. They were talking of the Colonel Mustang, _no way she_ _could_ _even have heard that_. Even if it would explain everything, especially his behavior towards her at complete odds with his obvious confidence in his potential for seduction. Especially why he refrained from kissing her. Twice. 

“Amy” but his last words sounded like a plea “I don’t know what your feelings for him are, but… Just don’t run away. He needs you, at least as a friend.”

Oh yes, at least one man had understood…

“Just look at him for the man he is, that’s all he needs from you.”

One man had understood truth had to be forced on her. So she wouldn’t run away from it for once. 


	14. Funus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Funerals, can also be read as ‘violent death, murder’ or as ‘tears, pain from the loss’

“What was this big speech about, you idiot?” Amy almost spat in frustration as she adjusted her long black dress “How are you helping yourself now?”

She blinked several times not to cry. She had to look decent, that was a military ceremony. She was angry, it was unfair but she was mad at him. Of course he didn’t want to die, of course he didn’t want to leave behind his wife, his child! Of course he didn’t want to let the Colonel down. It was unfair, so unfair! Why did he have to die? They had this housewarming party. He had the Elric brothers’ friend at his home. So why, why, why, why? Of all people in this god forsaken country, why  _ him _ ? Finding a classy black dress that covered all her fresh cuts had been actually quite a challenge. 

“You’re ready?” she heard a few knocks at her door.

“Yes” she tugged on her clothing some more.

At least everything was hidden, at least  _ he _ wouldn’t have to see how big the damage was. If he didn’t know, perhaps he would feel less sad. Or so she hoped. She opened the door to reveal the Colonel in his dress uniform. He was gorgeous in his sad dignity, not to mention that kind of outfit truly suited him. She noticed how hard he was trying to keep his composure as he drove the car, as he stood still during the entire ceremony. It was hard to bear, the formal speeches, the cries of Gracia, the pleas of Elicia who was way too young to grasp the horror of what she was seeing, the hands of Fuhrer King Bradley probably just trembling out of hypocrisy more than anything. Amy felt numb, out of place. She barely knew him.

But she knew him enough to feel the pain of his loss. But she knew him after everything he had told her about Ishval. 

Her eyes remained on the Colonel’s back the whole time. Even when he paid his respects to the dead and let escape only two tears. 

“No. It’s raining” he said.

The weight on her chest was getting heavier, the knot in her stomach tightened. It was a miracle she didn’t burst into tears right now. But she had to be strong. Today wasn’t about her or about her pain. Some lost a husband, a father, a best friend. She just lost an acquaintance. Today wasn’t about her. And still… 

“You’re Amy Miller, right?” a blonde woman held out a hand “I’m Lieutenant Hawkeye, pleasure to meet you. Even if I wish it was under better circumstances.”

“Likewise” she answered, shaking her hand as her voice sounded broken. 

Their talk was starting to get real serious, they tackled the circumstances of Hughes’ death, the Colonel said something about investigating. Investigating! Right now! She didn’t want to hear that, not today. She turned around and started to walk away. This was way too political, way too soon. She need time to mourn, for fuck sake! She understood it was  _ his _ way of coping with death but it surely wasn’t  _ hers _ .

“Amy!” he shouted and it sounded like an order “Where are you going?”

“Wait for me by the car” she didn’t even turn her head as she talked “I won’t be long.”

They probably all noticed she was walking straight to the civilian aisle of the cemetery. She didn’t really understand why she was heading there. She was probably just moved by her own guilt. Her feet knew the way by heart and before she knew it she was standing before  _ that _ grave she had been fleeing from for years. And it struck her like a lightening. It was as if earth opened beneath her. She fell on her knees and took her face in her hands. And she cried, she cried, she cried, she cried. 

“I’m sorry” she repeated “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I’m powerless, so powerless.”

She looked at the name and dates on the stone and it didn’t matter if she couldn’t read them through her tears. For she knew them by heart. And would never forget them. She ran her fingers on her clothed hips, feeling the fresh cuts she did there a few days ago, pressing a little, hoping the physical pain would help her forget the mental one. It didn’t. And her anxiety looped and looped and looped and looped until she felt a hand drop a coat on her shoulders. 

“So you were here” the Colonel said “I’ve been looking for you, I finished what I had to do. Good you were supposed not to take long, I was away for a whole hour.”

“I’m sorry” she repeated again, out of it.

“Hey” his voice quivered with worry “Are you alright?” he gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze, glancing at the tombstone “And who’s June Stevenson?” 

“Later, Colonel” she gripped on the clothing and wrapped herself in the coat, it was warm, smelt like him “We had enough for today.” 

She tried to get up but her legs were shaking. How long did she stay like this? An hour, really? She clung onto his uniform as he helped her getting on her feet. He threw an arm around her shoulders, keeping her close. She inhaled his scent deeply, hoping it’d help her want to hurt herself a little less. June is… June  _ was _ … The drive back home was made in complete silence, even if from time to time his hand came to take hers, in a moment of pure kindness.

And her heart was beating, even if she knew they were going nowhere.

The door of her apartment closed in a big slam, the keys fell on the floor along with his ceremonial cap and when her shoulders hit the wall she just put her hands on his chest. He needed it, she needed it: they both buried a friend today. His lips crashed onto hers, his fingers tilted her chin a little roughly and his tongue was a little forceful. But who was she to blame him? Didn’t she do something like that four years ago? And more than once? She knew this wasn’t how he wanted to do it. But sadness, pain, despair… they were getting the best of him. 

So she would just give him the relief he needed. There was nothing else she could do. And she didn’t have the strength to refuse him either. For she too needed such relief.

She kissed him back, locking her arms around his neck to bring him closer. Go with the flow. It was the most normal thing to do. He seemed a little surprised, his hands wandering on her body aimlessly before firmly gripping on her waist. Cold hands. After all it was freezing outside, with all that wind… 

Yes, they were going nowhere.

They barely made it to the bedroom. She ended up on the edge of the bed, her legs hanging over, her toes brushing against the floor. Too much in a hurry to lay down properly. He was still hesitating to go further, she could feel it in his hands, in the way he was touching her. She ran her fingers through his soft hair and, when he broke the kiss, she let her stilettos fall down her feet. He rested his forehead against hers, his breathing was labored and he bit on his lower lip.

“We shouldn’t…” he started “Doing something like that is…”

“It’s a normal thing, Roy” she said his name for the very first time as she travelled the back of her fingers against his cheek “You buried someone important today.”

She would have loved to see such look in his eyes, when she called his name, if the circumstances had been different. She would really have loved to. Such fondness, such tenderness. And she would have loved being kissed by him so roughly, she would have loved behind held by him so closely, she would have loved being under him so intimately. Under different circumstances, this would probably have been good sex, really good sex. But now they were just hurting. 

“But I…” he protested though he pressed more of his body against hers “This is…”

“Funeral sex” she pulled back to look at him “It’s nothing wrong and it doesn’t mean it’s not going to feel good either” her hands moved down to his hips “Don’t worry, Roy. Me too, I need this, I want this. Me too, I…” she paused a bit, her heart was beating too fast “I need you.” 

“So… it’s okay?” he sounded so insecure. 

“Yes” she sadly smiled at him “It’s okay.”

He leaned in to kiss her again, even more eagerly than before. Yes, it was okay. And yes, he could be selfish once in a while. She knew he didn’t mean to be, she knew he just wanted to do things right. Except today, except right now: nothing could be done the right way. 


	15. Quod necesse est

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What's necessary

This wasn’t love. This wasn’t even desire or mutual attraction. This was just despair, the need to connect, the need to feel alive after being so close to death. Amy came to realize his reputation was probably true after all. He was skilled with his hands and he surely was the first guy who managed to roll her tights down her legs without tearing them or messing with them. But when he slid his fingers under the fabric of her dress she gripped firmly on his wrist.

“Don’t…” she said between pants “Don’t touch my…” she stopped mid-sentence. 

“I don’t care about your scars, I still find you very beautiful” he whispered as he shoved his hand under and travelled it on her thigh.

The skin there was awfully damaged and he frowned as he brushed alongside each and every scar. When he touched a fresh one, she jerked, wriggled before looking away in shame. He didn’t need to face that. Not today. He had enough for one day. He just needed comfort. In her. 

“What did you do?” he asked, tilting her chin to force her to meet his gaze.

“I coped…” she swallowed her saliva “Or at least I tried to…”

She could see the pain and fear invade his beautiful dark eyes before he closed them and kissed her again. He was gentler this time and his hands left her bare skin to grip on her clothing. She relaxed a bit: she didn’t want him to touch that. Not today. She fumbled a bit with his belt and felt him smirk against her lips at her clumsiness. Things went fast after that. They were beyond any kind of foreplay at this point. She tensed, she gasped when he entered her, and took a fistful of his uniform. It hurt, it had been long, way too long. 

“You okay?” he asked with genuine concern, petting her hair softly. 

“Just a second…”

She nuzzled his neck and started to buck her hips. A little too briskly, it still hurt. But the pain soon faded as he matched her moves, thrusting more and more into her. It was rough, it was far from being gentle but it wasn’t selfish. Almost kind. It was despair, just utter despair. And, still, for a man that desperate, he was awfully caring. She cried out his name, throwing her head back into the mattress when her orgasm hit her like a shock wave. It was all she had expected this to be: rough, violent, desperate. And good, so good, too good… 

“Amy…” he moaned into her ear with a hoarse voice “Amy, I love you.”

“What?” she said, out of it.

He kissed her when he came, as if to prevent further protests. That was bound to happen. She knew he didn’t really mean it. It was just grief, the sweet comfort of the intercourse, the hormonal discharge of the climax. There was no meaning behind those words. He was just trying to fight back his own anxiety, to fight back the black hole in his chest that was eating him from within. And so was she. So she clung onto him and kissed him back. It all felt unreal. And yet very real. The scent of his arousal… Amy was intoxicated. Not to mention completely dissociated. He broke the kiss to nuzzle her neck. He hadn't pulled out. They weren't shifting into a more comfortable position either. Amy just petted his hair, blinked as if to reconnect with the real world. It had been too quick, too violent, too much for either of them to grasp the reality of what just happened.

“I’m sorry” he whispered, wrapping his arms around her as tears finally escaped from his eyes “I’m sorry…”

“It’s okay to cry, Roy” she comforted him, rubbing his back gently as her own calmness surprised her “It doesn’t mean you’re weak. It just means you’re human” she closed her eyes “So cry, cry as much as you need.” 

She fought back her own urge to burst into tears as well and held him. It wasn’t about her, it wasn’t about her grief. Not today. She had to be strong. Just a little longer. So he could let go. Just a little more. That was the one and only thing she could do. A powerless useless bookworm like her. So she held him until he was done crying. The next kiss he gave her had the bitter taste of tears. 

“I’m sorry” he said again “I'm sorry…”

“Don’t apologize” she answered, patting him on the chest with a smile “It's okay, it's good.”

How could she remain so serene? She wasn’t feeling like any of this was happening to  _ her _ though. If she could focus enough, she could watch herself, them, from a corner of the room.

“You like that?” he asked, arching a brow and cupping her cheek.

“Yeah” she looked away to avoid his gaze.

That was a half-lie at least. She liked it as much as this kind of things could be truly  _ liked _ . And she liked it as much as she actually liked sex. But that was the most normal thing to do. Amy lost sense of time as much as her grasp on reality. How many times had they done it? Two? Three? She only caught glimpses of their bodies tangled up together. Alongside a strange feeling of numb warmth. They were lying down properly onto the bed now. And he was fully naked, parts of his uniform scattered here and there by the bed. And she wasn't. She still had her dress on. And the only skin he touched was that of her face.

Caring and attentionate, even in a situation like that. 

He never touched her body, no matter how paradoxical this could sound as they were doing something this intimate. His hands remained on the clothing the entire time. Even after. Amy was running her fingers through his black locks, without thinking. She didn't know what else to do. He was gorgeous, lying there naked with his head resting on her chest.

“I'm sorry” he kept repeating.

So she kept making shushing sounds.

She was in a second-state when she took off her remaining clothes and stepped into the tub. The water running onto her pale skin was probably too hot, she could see the steam invade the mirror. She threw her head back, offering her face to the stinging hot water and this was when she cracked.

_ Amy… _ his voice, his lie, echoed in her mind.

_ I love you. _

She put a hand on the wall to support herself. Her breathing was fast, she was wheezing, choking on her own sobs. What had she been hoping for? To be better than all the women he previously slept with? To do better? Her?  _ Her! _ Her hand curled into a fist. She shouldn’t have done that, she should have said no! 

_ I’m sorry. _

Because the way she helped him was wrong. Because having sex with him was wrong. Because he valued women, because he valued her. Because he surely didn’t lie when he said those words. Because he… 

_ Amy… _

Because she shouldn’t have sex like that. Not after so long. Not after… 

There was a razor blade hidden under the soap. There was always a blade hidden somewhere close. There was no much room left on her thighs and hips, she had to come up to her belly. She barely felt it on her skin. But she sure smelt the irony smell of her blood and she sure felt this strange feeling of sweet dissociation that came with it.

_ I love you. _

Under the hot water, her body didn’t feel like her own. Drenched in her own blood, her mind somehow was less foggy. Clearer. She had stopped crying. Being in his arms had felt good for sure. He had been nice and kind and attentionate and careful. She had pleasure, real pleasure. And that was the worst.

_ Because I can’t…  _

She blinked when she heard small knocks on the door.

“Amy, I…” his voice sounded broken “I want to apologize. You… You didn’t have to do that, you didn’t have to give yourself to me like that.” 

“You buried your best friend today” her words echoed on the bathroom walls “That’s…”

“Not an excuse” she heard him take a deep breath “I can only assume what you’re doing in there but… But don’t blame yourself too much, okay?”

Oh, so he knew. She looked at the blood running down her legs. 

“Please don’t… hurt yourself too much” he sounded like he was crying.

She slid down and sat in the bathtub, water and blood slowly washing off. She threw the blade away, out of her reach so she wouldn’t be tempted again. But the damage had been done. But things had gotten intimate. But he had made her feel good,  _ was _ making her feel… things.

_ But I can’t love you. _

_ I’m not brave enough. _


	16. Superbus atque dirupta

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The proud and the broken 
> 
> ("superbus" refers to a masculine subject whereas "dirupta" refers to a feminine one)

“I told you a hundred times” Amy hissed, pointing out a few words angrily “Trees are feminine substantives in Latin but it doesn't hold some kind of meaning.”

“Right” he answered coldly “You told me that already…”

“What's the matter with you?”

“Nothing…”

“Right” she closed her book “Why don't we discuss this  _ no-thing _ around a cup of coffee?”

“I'm sorry, I…” he stopped when he saw her shove her books in her bag “You're leaving?”

“We're not making any progress, let's at least go somewhere we can openly talk.”

That meant  _ her place _ but of course she couldn't say that in the middle of the Central University Library. The gossips were even worse here. After all, she was new, turned out to be a complete genius and working with the very Colonel about whom rumors were already spreading. How could people not gossip? Except this time the rumors had some truth in them. She did sleep with him, if  _ that _ could be called  _ sleeping with someone _ . And she knew how it felt. Good. Terribly and painfully good. So good she sometimes wished they could do it again.

But  _ that _ was more than sex.  _ That _ also was a confession of love. And her first time after years of guilt, and abstinence. They never talked about it. Amy knew they should have. When she had stepped out of the bathroom guilt was written all over his face.

_ Forgive me _ , he had been pleading her,  _ I shouldn't have treated you like that. I value you too much.  _

It really was painful to hear, a man like him begging her like that. She had forgiven him and she had even given his cheek a small peck. But only a fool would think it'd be enough. And apparently they both were fools. Because they were acting as if  _ that _ never occurred. They went to her place in silence. Silence had become a normal thing between them, still mostly heavy or embarrassing. Full of innuendos. Full of things left unsaid. Of small gestures left undone. Because  _ that _ happened. And their bodies, their hearts remembered. Even if their minds wanted to forget.

“Is that the matter?” she asked, showing him the newspaper she had just pulled out her mailbox “The Maria Ross trial?”

“Whatever” he hissed, hanging on his coat.

“They're throwing a bone at you” Amy stated as she made them coffee “I mean, it's all fishy. I've settled here too easily, both your transfer and mine went smooth and I found a professor to help me with my thesis in the week I arrived. And now this” she waved a hand “It's likely someone wants you to keep quiet and play house with your girlfriend.”

“You found someone to direct your work already?” he tensed but ignored the  _ girlfriend _ remark. 

“Yes. Only two days after I arrived, honestly. Somebody had been pulling strings” she poured the hot water in the coffee pot “Don't worry, I know it's not you.”

“You'd kill me if I interfered with your work” he smirked at her and took the cup she was handing him “Thanks.”

“And how convenient they find an eyewitness now…”

“I know she's innocent” he leant against the kitchen counter next to her “But she's going to be charged if I don't solve it quickly.”

“So you do know something?”

“I do.”

“What don't you tell me? You're always hiding things from me, and then you’re standing there, like you expect something from me. I’m not omniscient! I can help, but only if you talk to me!”

“Yeah you could help… And you could die too! Hughes dug too deep and he died!” his face deformed with pain “Do you want to die as well?”

“I don't care!”

She heard the sound of the slap before she felt it. She probably deserved it though, after saying something like that to the face of a man who saw death way too much.

“Don't” he violently slammed his cup on the counter and grabbed her by the collar “Don’t talk about dying so easily! Just… don't!”

“Even if I mean it?” she dared to ask.

She expected another slap, another outburst of rage. She was probably just trying to hurt herself by proxy. Hughes’s death, her own powerlessness, it still all was too heavy on her shoulders. But the complete opposite happened. He kissed her. And that kiss was nothing like all the previous ones. It was nice, gentle, caring. And almost shy. Even if he took the risk to go in with his tongue, he remained very tender, even the hands on her clothes loosened their grip. It was so sweet and loving she started to cry. Of course she didn't kiss back. She didn’t even put her hands on him. She just gripped hard on her own coffee cup.

“You don't like it” he said as he pulled back “Though you just called yourself my  _ girlfriend _ ” he added, obviously hurt. 

“I…” her voice quivered “I like it.”

“Yeah” he dried her tears with his sleeve “You surely look like you do” he sighed and let go of her.

“I…” she put a trembling hand over her mouth “But I…”

“Save your excuses. Don’t force yourself into loving me because I’m nice to you” he ran his fingers through her messy brown locks “But don't ever talk about dying so easily. I can't lose you too.”

But she wasn’t forcing herself! On the contrary, she was completely losing it by getting this close to someone again! She shook her head. She didn’t want to go there, she didn’t want to start such conversation. She didn’t even want to consider the possibility she was liking him. A lot. Or that she was needing him. Terribly.

“What… what are you going to do about Maria Ross?” she tried to avoid the subject.

“Expose the truth” his tone had turned very neutral “I've a lead. And you, what are you going to do about June Stevenson?” 

“What?” her eyes widened with horror and shock, she almost dropped her cup “Why are you asking? What do you even know about June?”

“Nothing” he frowned at her reaction “Except you were staring at her grave after Maes’ funeral” he tried to sound composed but Amy noticed he slipped and used his best friend’s first name “But I was right, June's the key, isn't she?” 

“I don't want to talk about it” she stared at her feet, carefully avoiding his gaze “And this is not of your business.”

“Her death and you leaving Central are linked somehow, right? I mean…” he put his hands on her arms and squeezed tenderly “There’s probably more to it, but I…” 

“I told you I don't want to talk about June!” 

“But it’s been four years! And you didn’t find closure! I want to help as well!”

She didn’t answer. She just gulped down the entire content of her cup in one go. She didn’t want to talk about it, she didn’t want to even think about it. Why couldn’t he understand? Why was he insisting? She felt a little nauseous, she shouldn’t have drunk her coffee this quickly. This wasn’t alcohol or anything, it wouldn’t help her feel better or forget herself. But she just had to do something to keep her composure. She just had to do something not to hurl herself against him. Not to end up needing his arms too much. 

“See, we’re just the same” he took her hands gently “We just want to help each other out, not to be a burden” he chuckled “We need to talk to each other, Amy. Otherwise we’ll just argue.” 

_ I count on you to be good support for him… _

“We can try but…” she squeezed his hands back, her past was too heavy, she shouldn’t bother him with that, he was already going through so much “But I’m a better listener than a talker.” 

Lame excuse. Again. 

“That’s okay, even small bits by small bits you can talk to me” he took a step forward and rested his forehead against hers “Can I… kiss you?” 

“You’re asking now?” she smirked.

“Well…” he took a deep breath “You said you liked it and I want to believe you but… But I don’t want to make you cry either. So yeah, I guess I’m asking now.” 

“That’s…” her eyes widened “You are an idiot, Colonel.”

He was nice, way too nice, especially to someone like her. When he’d learn how she let someone she loved down, when he’d learn how toxic she actually was...

… _ to help him. _

But he needed her. As much as she needed him. Perhaps even more. It was everything like Hughes said: he was testing her, making sure she was standing on ground solid enough to support the both of them. She wasn’t. But she still tiptoed to give him a kiss. For he was proud. And she was broken. 

_ Roy loves you. _

So she convinced herself hers wasn’t love. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, I hope you're all enjoying your reading so far  
> Just saying I go on vacations next week and I don't know if I'll have enough signal to update, so don't worry if there's no chapter next week, there'll surely be one the week after no matter what
> 
> Thanks for reading <3


	17. Ave casi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hail to the fallen

Amy was working on her thesis when the phone rang. She had been struggling all day with substantives and verbs and her mind was far from being clear. It was already past ten, there was only one person who could call her now. The Colonel had been busy lately, secretly investigating Hughes’ death, trying to prove Maria Ross innocent. But he still made sure to call her everyday, even if he was available only for five minutes. Sometimes she could even hear the Lieutenant Hawkeye scold him for slacking off and it made her smile. They hadn’t been working on his research, they hadn’t even been seeing each other. So of course they hadn’t been talking about their pasts, about what happened between us, about their feelings towards each other. And Amy was relieved. She understood the emergency of the situation - Maria Ross’ life was at stake after all - but she was relieved by this delay. That was how selfish she was.

“Yes?” she just said when she picked up the phone.

“Amy…” his voice sounded weird “Are you available right now?”

“Is something wrong?” she frowned.

“Not on the phone” he just said “Are you alone? Can I pass by?”

“Yes, but I…” 

She stopped when she heard the dead tone. Really? He hang up on her? So it was that bad… She took a deep breath and tidied up her room as she waited for him. At least keeping her hands busy helped her not overthink it too much. But she still startled when she heard the doorbell. 

_ To be good support, to help him. _

She took a deep breath. Yeah, she could do that. If she helped him, if she heard him talk about his problems, she wouldn’t think about her own unfinished business. She would flee from her own issues. That was the coward exit but she never claimed to be either strong or brave. She expected him to seek physical contact so that wasn’t much of a surprise when she ended up in his arms right after opening the door. He smelt like ashes, smoke and, well,  _ grilled meat _ . So they had him be that human weapon again. So that was why he sounded so weird. So that was why he so desperately needed to see her. She asked no question and just rubbed his shoulders gently. 

“I didn’t kill anyone” he whispered, as if he was trying to justify himself “I faked it.”

“Colonel” she held him a little closer, he was trembling “What are you talking about?”

“Maria Ross” he clung onto her “She was about to be executed so I planned her escape, I faked her death. But they don’t know that, the Fullmetal, Major Armstrong… They’re mad at me. Everyone is. I bore with it but now I need…”

“Comfort” she ran her fingers through his hair “That’s okay.”

“I should be able to bear with it, right? After all, I did nothing wrong. On the contrary, I saved an innocent’s life, but…” he stopped, as if he was ashamed of what he was about to tell.

“You can say it, Roy. I won’t think less of you.”

She knew, somehow. She had always known. He hadn’t been the same since the funerals, it was hard not to notice. It was hard not to know. 

“But I…” his hands squeezed her a little too tight “But I wish I had saved Hughes instead! And also… I’m mad at me, because I wish something like that!” 

She thought he would cry but he didn’t. He just buried his face in the crook of her neck, his hands wandering on her back, as if trying to bring her closer by any means. He was still grieving, she was still grieving. That rage, that pain, they would take a very long time to pass. If they ever were to pass. If he ever were to forgive whoever murdered his best friend.

“You can spend the night here” she said as she started to get him rid of his coat.

Help, good support. At least she could be there for him. At least she could try and carry on Hughes’ will. And maybe, who knows, maybe she could atone this way. Maybe she would forgive herself too. And if it just hurt, well she did deserve it after all. So everything was perfectly fine either way. His coat fell on the floor with a soft sound and their lips found each other’s. It was a mess of teeth, tongue and saliva. It tasted like rage and fear. That wasn’t a kiss. That was a cry for help. 

“I won’t have sex with you” he said out of the blue, between pants “Not like that, not again.”

“Why?” her breathing was labored as well.

“I felt guilty last time, you felt guilty. And your body…” he pulled back a little to look at her “You don't have to be a tool for my stress relief.”

That was cute, how much he cared and worried about her. As if she was worthy of his affection.

“It doesn’t matter to me…”

“It does matter to me” he fondly smiled at her “I love you.”

This time as well he kissed her before she could protest. But this time she cried. But this time she kissed back, locking her arms around his torso. This was a lie, this wasn’t love. She wasn’t allowed to love, she wasn’t allowed to be loved. But it felt so good, he felt so good. And she hoped her cheeks were wet with her tears only, though she highly doubted so. She stumbled and her back met the wall. She was trapped and there was no escape, but she couldn’t care less. For now. 

“I need you” he added.

“I’m here” she whispered and her voice broke mid-sentence “I’ll always be here.”

That also was a lie. She had told June the very same lie and she believed it. And at this very moment, he needed to hear such lie. Like he needed to tell her such lie as a confession of love. Neither of them were to believe it. Or so she hoped. She wasn’t that sure of it now, considering how he was holding her. He perhaps needed to hear her say she loved him too. But she couldn’t utter something like that. 

“If there’s anything I can do…”

“I just don’t want to sleep alone…” he put one hand on the wall, as if to support himself “I still have nightmares… where I pick up the phone and... “ he swallowed with difficulty “Sorry, I’m tired.”

More than tired, he was afraid. He needed more than comfort. He needed  _ her _ . Her presence, her arms, her warmth. He hadn’t been lying. He sounded like he couldn’t go on without her. 

“It’s fine” she moved away and grabbed him by the arm “We can lay down, we can talk about… whatever you need to talk about. Come.”

“In your... “ he blinked in surprise “In your room?”

True, he only went there once. On the day of Hughes’ funerals. What happened there had become a secret. Their secret. And a taboo. 

“Where else? Don’t you wanna sleep?” she blushed a little “I thought you were tired…”

He didn’t answer. She dragged him to her bedroom, her heart beating with expectation. First thing she did after turning the light on was to put face down all the pictures of June and her she had on her furnitures. There weren’t that many but she still didn’t want him to be exposed to that. He probably saw them already, from  _ last time _ , but that was a matter of courtesy. Not that the pictures were explicit in any way. But he was already feeling insecure.

She searched and searched in her wardrobe, she was positive she had something that belonged to her brother to lend him. He wouldn’t sleep well in his uniform. And he would probably have to wear it tomorrow, it’d be better if it wasn’t crumpled. Nobody needed to know he wasn’t sleeping well. She didn’t look when he changed and she assumed he didn’t look either when she did but she was so ashamed of her scars she felt something like a burning gaze on her naked back. 

“So, about that nightmare?”

“You…” he sighed, rolling on his side to face her, he did look terribly tired “You don’t need to know. War, Ishval… You don’t need to….”

“That doesn’t matter. You need to talk. You want to talk.”

Again, she was calm, serene. She ran a hand in his hair, playing with his locks. He sighed, relaxing under her touch. He came to seek something that simple. Not sex. Not even her body, not even physical contact. Just her presence. Comfort in her presence. Perhaps also comfort in, would she dare to say, her feelings for him. Fucked up feelings. But still feelings. For she cared. And it probably was the closest thing to love. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I couldn't update last week, the signal wasn't good enough for me to do so ><  
> I hope you'll enjoy your reading all the same <3


	18. Vel belli, vel domi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In times of war, in times of peace

“There's nothing good coming from such knowledge” his voice was firm, stern, very soldier-like “Knowledge of war, I mean.”

But Amy was a creature of knowledge. She wanted to know, to understand, to learn about everything. She had an appetite for it. No, she lived for it. Learning was the utmost pleasure she could ever experience. To her, it was sometimes even better than sex. He had surely understood that by now. That was why he was always withdrawing information. Some things are better left unknown. But Amy was awfully stubborn when it came to such matters. She craved knowledge to the point it hurt.

If only she could just like the Platonic ideal: round, perfect, one and all at the same time. Embracing everything with perfection. Knowing everything about anything. Absolute. But unique.

She was getting carried away again, wasn't she? So she asked a single question. 

“Do you need to talk about it?”

“I…” he frowned, he was trying to act all strong and  _ in charge _ “It doesn't matter. It's done.”

“It's not” she smiled “It's yet very present. And it aches. Everyday. Doesn't it?”

_ Trauma _ in Ancient Greek literally means  _ wound _ . Physical wound. Something that needs cure for healing. Something that needs being tended to. Though she never dare to speak the word, as if it were an insult. 

“It doesn't matter” he repeated.

Guilt. Survivor’s guilt. Soldier’s guilt. Human’s guilt. Just plain old guilt. And the more powerful he grew, the more guilty he felt. He wasn't even making a move to touch her. He was beyond all this, he probably felt like he didn't deserve to touch her. Not with soiled hands like his. But Amy was soiled already. Soaked in the blood of the person she once loved.

“You are not at fault” she held out a hand to cup his cheek, as if to prove him she wasn't afraid or disgusted to touch a man such as him “How could you be if your intentions were good?”

“I could have backed out” but he removed her hand from his face to put it on the sheets “Armstrong did.”

“No, you couldn't” but she caught his hand and made sure he didn't shy away from her grasp “You couldn't have lived with yourself, if you hadn't done your duty.”

“Perhaps” he sighed “It's done, anyway. All I've left to do is…”

“Forgive yourself.”

How hypocritical, coming from her! Amy was sure good at giving advice, but when it came to actually apply them! What a fraud, she should keep her mouth shut! But she couldn't let someone self-loathe just right in front of her. She just couldn't. She too had to atone. Saving every person around her having a hard time was the only way she could ever _ forgive herself _ . She didn't really care if she broke in the process. Amy was just looking for suicide by proxy, there was nothing new about it. She was this resigned. And if she could at least save one person then she would die happy. 

“It's funny” he giggled “Coming from you.”

He wasn't making fun of her, just stating a fact. And his giggle was more nervous than anything. 

“I never claimed to set an example” she tried to joke as well but her voice sounded sad “There's always this discrepancy between what I know and how I act.”

For she, despite what she wished for, was only human. And not a pure being of absolute knowledge. She too was driven by feelings. And a high sense of self-protection.

“Hughes was the only one good at it” finally, he tackled the true matter at stake “Being joyful and genuinely happy while eaten by guilt.”

“He found his own way to atone.”

_ He died atoning _ . She never said it.  _ He died doing something to help this country he once destroyed.  _ It would only increase his sense of powerlessness. He didn't need that. The truth didn't really matter. Hughes was dead. And Roy would never calm down until he knew by whose hand. But if only the nightmares could stop…

“You didn't fail him, you know” Amy finally said, feeling he wouldn't go there first.

“I let one of my men die” he said between clenched teeth.

“He made a personal choice, you couldn't…”

“I let one of my friends die!”

“There wasn't anything you could have done, you know that.”

“Stop it!” he yelled at her “That's so simple for you, those are just words, easy to say…”

Amy's eyes widened as she felt something snap in her. As she felt the levee break. It wasn't anger: it was rage.  _ Simple _ , he said.  _ Just words _ , he said. Come on, he didn't know. He didn't know anything. He wasn't judging, he was just hurting. Just hurting. You can't blame him for something he doesn't know, Amy. Amy, you can't blame people for not acting the right way if you're unable to tell them what's wrong. 

“Whatever” she said and her voice was colder than intended, she wanted to cry.

Whatever, indeed. After all, they got close for the wrong reasons. If he didn't want to talk about it, so be it. Who was she to force a confession out of him? If he just wanted stress-relief in her presence, so be it. Who was she to refuse him? She didn't care if she broke in the process, she didn't care if she broke in the process, she didn't care if she…

“I'm sorry” she heard him whisper “Sorry, it's just… too much. I've to remain strong all the time and it's too much. I'm sorry.”

“You don't have to be a soldier around me” her tone was still angry despite the things she was saying “You can just be a man, I've never looked at you as a soldier.”

“I know…”

“So quit acting as if I'm your subordinate. I am not. I am…” but she didn't know what she was “Your equal… somehow.”

What a lame thing to say. She could have at least said  _ friend _ . And maybe add the prefix  _ girl _ to it. After all, to whom was he coming in the times of need? To whom had he confessed? Twice.

“You can talk to me” she glanced at him, she even dared to move closer “I can hear anything.”

Because his intentions were good. Always. She never doubted them. She never doubted him. He was pure. Guilty but pure. If that actually made sense. He shifted to get closer as well, holding out a hand to play with her hair. Nervously. His touch was almost shy. After all they were lying in _her_ _bed_. Where happened the thing they never talked about. 

“We're in Ishval” he started out of the blue “The sand, the sun, the smell of death. It feels like we're just back in that hell. And the fear. The tremendous fear. I'm with Hughes. We're on a mission, I think. It's just the two of us. I don't quite remember what we're doing. Perhaps we talk. Perhaps we wait. I don't know. And the phone rings. We’re in the middle of nowhere but the phone rings. I pick up but there’s no answer, just confused sounds on the other line. But I know, I understand. And when I turn back, where Hughes was standing, there’s just a pool of blood.”

The hand in her hair never trembled. His grip never tightened nor did his fingers move away. The fact he just said it simply was awful. Amy didn't know what to say. Or what to do. She wanted to help but at this very moment all the words seemed vain. Not enough. So she just threw an arm around him and brought his face close to her chest. He nuzzled her neck, saying nothing. He was so tensed Amy hesitated to rub his shoulders. She went for his back instead. The fabric of the shirt was thinner than the uniform’s. She could feel how muscled he was. Were her hands ever on his naked back when they had sex? Where were her hands? She couldn't even remember. All this felt like a distant dream. Did it feel like a dream for him as well?

“Amy…” he weakly called.

“I'm here” she answered by automatism.

She felt her top getting wet and rubbed his back firmly. He was crying in silence, she couldn't even hear him sob or sniffle. The tears were just flooding out of his eyes, naturally, peacefully. He wasn’t trembling either. He held her tighter, she held him tighter. Perhaps they kissed, she didn’t know. She was out of her own body again, watching them from a corner of the room. Again. So she couldn’t be held this closely, this intimately. Not yet. It was still too soon. 

How many years would it take to recover? 

So she just kissed him on the top of the head, holding him until he was done crying. Holding him until he fell asleep. 


	19. Silentium

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Silence

Amy woke up first. She blinked a several times to help her eyes focus. Her back was resting against Roy’s torso and despite the clothing she could feel his heart beat. A little too fast. He had an arm locked around her and his hand was resting in her lap. Though his fist was clenched. She put her hand on his, hoping physical contact would help him relax a bit. She could feel his regular breathing on the back of her neck, his face was probably very close. His entire being was tangled up with hers, he had been clinging onto her the whole night. She turned around carefully to face him. He was frowning and she sadly smiled at the sight. He was still sleeping but he surely wasn’t relaxed.

_ And the phone rings. We’re in the middle of nowhere but the phone rings. _

_ I pick up but there’s no answer, just confused sounds on the other line. _

_ But I know, I understand. And when I turn back, where Hughes was standing, there’s just a pool of blood. _

She resisted the urge to hold out a hand and cup his cheek, stroke his face. He was a soldier, he probably became a light-sleeper during war. If he wasn’t already. So she just looked at him. He really had fine features, no wonder he ended up with such a disastrous reputation. She glanced at the wall behind him and she saw June’s camera staring at them with its big eye. June's camera. Amy wondered why she had kept something like that. Just another proof she couldn't let go. Even after four years. It was usually covered by a blanket to protect it from dust but it might have fallen down somehow. Hidden, and yet still very present. Taking a huge place in her room, in her intimacy. Amy sighed: her room was a memorial and she only seemed to realize it now. 

If she had picked up the phone, would have things be different?

She felt him jolt as he frowned some more. Well, it would have been a miracle if her presence only had the power to make nightmares go away. She put a gentle hand on his shoulder and shook him a little, calling his name. He didn’t have to go through this all over again. Pain, grief, guilt. They weren't needed. He opened his eyes and recoiled a bit in reflex but stopped when he realized it was just her. He sighed and lied down on his back, pinching the bridge of his nose. His fingers were trembling. 

“What happened?” she asked, putting a hand on his chest, just to ensure physical contact. 

Just to tell him he was okay now. And safe.

“Just a nightmare, I…” he briskly grabbed her hand in emergency “I was on a mission, making sure the building was clear. And the more I progressed, the more I…” he took a deep breath “You were all dead, Hawkeye, Fuery, Falman, Breda, Havoc…” his voice trembled “Maes, you… I had to bury all of you with my own hands.”

“That’s okay, Roy” she ran her fingers through his messy black locks “It’s part of the mourning process” there was sweat on his temples and forehead “Dreaming about it means you’re at least dealing with your issues.”

“Did you…” he lied on her black eyes so full of fear “Did you have nightmares when June died?”

“Plenty” she confessed “In them I was always too late: too late to answer the phone, too late to hold out a hand, too late to save her… Don’t make the same mistake I did: let the dead go before they haunt you” she looked away “It's no use, keeping them with you that way.”

“But I feel so guilty” he stared at the ceiling, squeezing her hand from time to time “When I buried you, all of you, it felt like I killed you.”

“But you didn’t. And you didn’t kill Hughes either. You were in East City, in your office: you are not guilty of his death. Even if you feel like it.”

“Thank you” he said with a strangled voice.

Yes, he needed to heart that. Badly.

“Shh, silly” she kissed him on the temple “Don't thank me. It's okay to be lost and scared, it doesn't make you weak. Or a burden.”

_ It just makes you who you are. The man I... _

“And what about you?” he loosened his grip on her hand and entwined their fingers together “If you're so aware about it, why do you still feel guilty of June’s?”

She remained silent and looked at their hands. Why was he asking? Why did he even want to know? She was a fraud, an unreliable fraud that tried to make it up for everything she did and didn't do. That was all he needed to know about her. 

“Because…” she mumbled “Because it's different.”

“That's not an excuse” he was starting to get angry “You're still running away.”

“I…”

“I'm trying to help you, like you’re helping me. But apparently it's better if you take it on yourself” he spat but never let go of her hand “We all lost loved ones, you know. Some of us even took lives!”

Oh so we’re talking about  _ taking lives _ , now? So be it! And he’d better not pity her. She was done with people feeling sorry for her.

“She killed herself, okay?” Amy yelled “She tried to call me all day but I never answered or returned her calls because I was too busy reviewing for a stupid exam! She tried to reach me and at the end of the day she hanged herself!” she threw a fist at her mattress “So yeah, you probably had it worse than me but that doesn't erase my responsibility!”

“Amy, I didn’t…”

“I loved her! I… I cared about her!” was she saying too much? “But all I could think of was me, me, me. All I can still think of is me, me, me. I'm scared. I don't want to ever lose someone important again! And I…” she took a deep breath “I'm helping you because it makes  _ me _ feel better. It feels like I'm actually  _ atoning.  _ Told you I'm not a good person. I'm a selfish prick.”

“My selfish prick” he corrected as he shifted to give the top of her head a kiss “It’s okay, Amy. I won't let you down. I won't abandon you or die on you, I've bigger plans” he chuckled “I can’t become Fuhrer if I'm dead” he had become serious “I can’t protect the people if I’m dead. I can’t protect you, if I’m dead. You can trust me.”

Her eyes widened. What? Him? Leader of this country? But… She opened her mouth to answer but he swiftly flipped her over and came on top of her.

“I’m terribly selfish too” he whispered “I want to claim you for my own, I want to make you my own. I don’t want you to walk away from me. I want to keep you with me, always” stop, those words are… “Because you make me feel safe”  _ Safe? _ “And… proud”  _ Proud? _ “Do you think I’m better?” he drew his face closer to hers.

“Colonel… I don’t think you are…”

“I’ve a name, you know” he hissed “Just say it. Don't try to distance yourself by calling me by my rank.”

“Roy…” she looked up at him and blushed.

“You're strong, Amy. Why can't you see how strong you are?”

_ Why can't you see how much I need you. _ That was what he probably truly meant to say.

She wanted to say something, to tell him he wasn’t a bad person, to tell him she was here to support him. But the atmosphere had turned very intimate, with his body towering hers like that, and she wouldn’t mind if he leant in for a kiss. Which he did. She didn’t tense at the contact, she welcomed everything. He seemed relieved, pressing his chest a bit against hers. He carefully rubbed his tongue against hers as his hands left her shoulders to go down her waist. She felt his insecurity, the slight trembling of his fingers. He wanted to do good.

And that was incredibly cute.

She slowly slid her hand under his top, travelling up his back. He indeed was very muscled. She felt a scar somewhere but didn’t pay much attention. He was a soldier, a State Alchemist. A man who went to war once. And she was covered with so much more of them. 

“Is this okay?” he asked, not going any further “Because I don't want you to…” he sighed “You won’t hurt yourself if we make love, right? I don’t want you to hurt yourself again.”

Oh yes. Of course he would worry about something like that. Last time didn’t exactly end good. For neither of them. 

“I won’t…” she looked at him straight in the eye “Promise.”


	20. Amissum bellum

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lost battle

Amy stared at the ceiling when he got her rid of her top. She didn’t want to see his eyes, she didn’t want to see the disgust or the pity or whatever feeling would pervade them at that moment. She knew how her body looked: from under her breasts to her higher thighs it was just scars, scars and more healing scars. 

“So many” she heard him whisper as his fingers brushed alongside them “Can I touch?”

Touch? Why? Those were ugly!

“Not…” she took a deep breath, she gave in “Not the recent ones.”

She closed her eyes and tensed when he cautiously drew each and every little line she had added over the years on her pale skin. She tensed and gasped when she felt the wetness of his tongue. Couldn’t he just… ignore them? Her hands gripped on the bed sheets. There were so many. He couldn’t just… Oh shit!

“Not...” she moaned, as he touched a fresh cut “Not this one.” 

“Sorry” he glanced at her “Did it hurt?”

Hurt? No, it didn’t. It actually sent a jolt of electricity through her entire body. A very pleasant one. But it came from the pain she had inflicted herself. She couldn’t feel pleasure, desire, arousal, as he literally licked her wounds. That was so wrong. And yet… yet it did feel good for a second. It did feel pretty good, actually. 

“N-No, it just surprised me. Felt weird, though.”

“Okay, I’ll be careful.”

The more he went down on her, the more scars he found. She insisted, told him several times he didn’t have to do this. He ignored her, he ignored her and he kept going. Each and everyone of them, he felt them all. All those cruel reminders. It made her feel weird: no one actually  _ kissed _ her guilt with lips that caring. She tried her best not to cry, not to push him away. Because he needed this, he needed this to realize, he needed this to cope with everything. Or so she thought. She let out a sigh of relief when he stopped to put a hand on the waistband of her pants, laying an interrogative look on her. 

“That’s… That’s worse on my hips and…”

“I want to see you” he said, and there was neither disgust nor pity in his eyes “All of you. As you are.”

“Can you give me a minute then?”

“Sure.”

He went up to kiss her. He probably meant to be tender and affectionate but she turned out to be more eager than he was. Her hands wandered on his stomach, feeling the shape of his abs. She massaged his skin in firm circles, caught somewhere between expectation and tremendous fear. She threw her head back on her pillow when the lower parts of their bodies rubbed against each other. She spread her legs a little, trying to feel more of his hard-on as she shamelessly bucked her hips into his.

“Take your time” he said and it almost sounded like an order.

“Yes, Colonel, sir!” she formally said as a tease.

She bit on her lower lip, regretting it the very moment she spoke it. That was a bad time, not to mention she didn’t know if he was indulging in that kind of military roleplay in bed. Probably sometimes for one-night stands. Something she  _ obviously _ wasn’t. She wanted to apologize but he tilted her chin and kissed her again, pretending those words never passed her lips. He hurriedly slid his hand under the fabric of her pants, he jolted and stopped when he felt how big and numerous the scars on her skin were. He trailed kisses down her neck and her collarbone, one hand gently cupping her breast and playing with her nipple, the other sliding down the last pieces of fabric she had on. His gestures betrayed how used to that he was. When he started to go down on her again, she ran gentle fingers in his hair.

“Don’t do that...” she whispered.

“Don’t order me around” he calmly answered “I’m the commanding officer.”

His words sent a shiver down her spine and a very,  _ very _ good one. So he was indulging in that kind of things after all. Though she could see he was still being too cautious to indulge in them completely. Just probably trying to please her weird kinks. He was way too sweet when he drew out all of her scars with his tongue, making sure not to forget any. He was way too careful when he started to suck on her clit. She yanked her head back and moaned his name. She too wanted to touch his scars, the burns he had from practice, the marks of his past battles, his wars. 

“Roy… Let me… do something…”

She took a fistful of his hair when his hands gripped on her inner thighs, spreading her legs a little more to have a better access. She closed her eyes, gave in to it. He wouldn’t let her do anything, he wanted to make her feel good in her body, he sure was about to please her. And her only. But she didn’t want that. 

“Roy, you… Shit!” she gasped when his tongue slipped into her “Roy… you won’t make me happy… if I’m the only one…” her grip on his hair tightened when he settled a quick pace “Shit, you’re good…” 

She felt him gave her hip a gentle squeeze of what she assumed was approval. And he kept stroking her scarred skin. It made her feel safe somehow. Alongside a strange feeling of numb warmth. Her mind was foggy. She never felt like that since… That wasn't fair. Why did he have to be so good? She called his name again. As if to make sure  _ him _ doing her was real. So she called his name again. And again. And again. Until her voice became hoarse. Until her orgasm hit her hard like a shock wave, invading her mind with a pure white fog. She had to put both her hands on her mouth. Or she would have screamed it, that name…

_ June. _

She felt his fingers moving her hands away. She blinked and avoided his gaze. She thought about someone else. At the very last moment, at the crucial moment, she thought about  _ her _ . How could not she? He was too good. As good as  _ she _ . How could she look him in the eye after that? 

“Are you o…” he started but couldn’t finish.

For her lips crashed onto his. Hurriedly. He tried to pull back several times but desire took over and got the best of him. The best of them. Her hands took off his clothing without hesitation, touched his erected member without hesitation, guided him inside of her. With a bit of hesitation. He gasped and whispered her name when he entered her. He remained gentle until the very end. He rolled his hips softly and when she tried to go for a rougher pace, he stopped her.

“Don’t rush it” he firmly said but it no longer sounded like an order “I want to feel you.”

He nuzzled her neck the entire time and held her as if she was something precious, something fragile. It was nothing like that desperate sex they had before, in this very room. He was making sure this wasn't funeral sex. There was so much tenderness in his every gesture, Amy felt terribly wrong. For the shape of June was still dancing before her eyes. June's frowning face when she had pleasure. June's long red hair scattered on the bed sheets. June's pale white, scarred skin. June, just June. It didn’t take her long to come again, after all that stimulation. Or perhaps after all that rememberance.

“Roy…” she managed to moan this time.

For right now it wasn’t June that was holding her. And he surely didn't feel anything like June he anymore.

“Sorry, I still…”

“Take your time.”

Amy glanced at him. At his face. He really was beautiful. The sweat, the little hair damped on his temples. His eyes lit up with pleasure. He was frowning too. He was beautiful, indeed. And honestly feeling him doing her through and post her orgasm was… something. He was good in bed, for that the rumors were speaking the truth. The way he moved, the way he was holding her… Never Amy felt this precious, this taken care of. Not even by June. She was on the verge of tears. So she clung onto his shoulders. More and more. Perhaps she also whispered his name at some point. He cursed when he came and that made her actually smile. 

“Amy…” he asked as he pulled out, his breathing was still labored “Look at me…” he tilted her chin and she didn’t like what she was seeing in his eyes “Amy…” it seemed like anger, and pain “Were you and June… lovers?”

Oh crap, so he noticed after all.


	21. Conventum

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A convenant

Amy tried to avoid his eyes but the hand on her chin was so firm she couldn’t look away. He seemed pretty dangerous at that very moment, towering her, with such glare in his eyes. She thrilled, not really sure if it was from arousal or fear. And her heart beat like crazy against her ribcage.

“Were you lovers?” he repeated and his tone was so sharp it could have pierced right through her heart.

“I…” she swallowed her saliva with difficulty “Homosexual relationships are strictly forbidden within the country” she just stated.

“That’s not what I asked” he hissed.

“I…” she bit on her lower lip “Yeah, we were” she confessed with a broken voice. 

“Fuck!” he violently threw a fist at the pillow a few inches away from her face, she startled and let escape a strangled mewled “What was that then?” he asked between clenched teeth “A pity fuck? Some great self-sacrifice to make me feel better?”

“No!” she shook her head violently “That…”

“I’m not unpopular with the ladies, you know” he pulled back to sit on the bed “If I just wanted to have sex I wouldn’t just have come to  _ you _ ” he passed a hand in his hair “I meant it when I said I love you” he hissed “Why did you fucking sleep with me if you are…” he stopped mid-sentence to rub his eyes “Do I even mean something to you, Amy?”

“Don't take it like that” she sat up as well and put her hands on his shoulders “I never said that I didn’t like men… or that I didn’t… like you. You’re assuming things. I...” she took a deep breath “I wanted it and I wanted you.”

“Yeah, sure, you wanted me so much” he removed her hands from him “So much you thought about her in the middle of it” he spat “Don’t you deny it!” the grip on her wrists tightened.

“I didn’t mean to…” 

“But you did!” he frowned some more “I can’t win against someone who’s dead! How can you…” he let go of her hands “How can you do something like that with me if you love someone else? How can you even still love someone who only made you feel guilty?”

She still loved her  _ because _ she had trapped her in guilt, this is all trauma is about. That wasn't actually love per se either but well… It was also a bad time to argue over such matter. 

“She didn't mean to. She was just suffering and…”

“Yeah, she’s the perfect martyr and I’m a war criminal, I mean” he laughed nervously “Your perfect little angel only took her despicable life and me, I… I’ve killed thousands of innocent ones. Of course you can’t  _ love _ me.” 

“Roy…”

“How did it feel, to sleep with a human weapon? Did it bring you closer to death? Did it feel like atonement? Punishment?”

“It felt like home!” she yelled, taking a fistful of her hair “It felt like home and it fucking frightened me!” she was wheezing, she forced herself to breath through her nose “You’re the first person I took a liking in since she died and you’re way too fucking kind, I… I’m lost” she quickly dried her tears with the back of her hand “I want to run away and at the same time I crave your embrace and… I like you and… I don’t know, okay?” the sound of her sobbing was gross “I really like you… I really liked… having sex with you.”

He violently grabbed her and pulled her into a hug. She tensed but soon relaxed as she wrapped her arms around his waist, travelling her hands on the naked skin of his muscled back. 

“Sorry…” he kissed the top of her head “I thought you were trying to punish yourself by having sex with me. I… am sorry” he ran a hand through her messy hair “Believe it or not, but I haven’t been in a relationship since a very long time either. And I am...”

Afraid. She knew, in fact. Hughes had told her, he had told her how Roy had self-confidence issues after Ishval, he had told her about the nightmares he was having, about his inability to tie intimate bonds so he had been indulging in one-night stands only, he had told her about his desire to protect, about his own way to atone for all the lives he took. Even if in the end, they were just the same. In the end, he’d just…

“I’ll make you mine” he said, his voice firm and confident again “I’ll protect you, I’ll free you from your guilt. I’ll make you mine and I’ll even make you say you love me.”

“Is that an order, Colonel?” she chuckled, glancing at him.

“More like a promise” he grinned, bringing his face a little closer to hers “Don’t run away, that’s my order to you.” 

“Yes, sir” she purred before she leant in for a kiss.

Never did she welcomed a kiss like that. Never was she kissed like that. He was obviously claiming possession but at the same time… at the same time his kiss was basically a confession of love. And it was also begging.

_ Please don’t go. I said such things but… please don’t leave me. _

They would have probably never stopped if the phone didn’t rang at this very moment. She pulled back but Roy caught her lips back with his. She had to completely break it to realize she was actually panting.

“It’s probably your Lieutenant” she whispered.

That blonde woman was terribly sharp. She probably came to realize where to find the Colonel if he wasn’t home. 

“I don’t care…” he said as he held her closer “Paperwork can wait.”

“I’ve got to take this” she insisted, getting up and quickly putting on her panties and her top and heading for the door. 

“Amy…” he laid concerned eyes on her “Nobody’s gonna die if you don’t pick up the phone, you know.”

“Yeah, I know” she sadly smiled “But your Lieutenant is definitely gonna kill you if you slack off too much.”

“True” he let out a little laugh before getting up and dressed as well “By the way, Amy…” she turned around to look at him “That lizard tattoo on your shoulder is really pretty.”

“Oh” she smiled and blushed a little “You've noticed.”

“Of course, I was curious about it since the day you mentioned it.”

“Th…” she tensed as she heard the phone ring some more “Sorry I've to take this, really.”

Even if he was right, even if nobody would die if she didn’t pick it up, she couldn’t help rushing for the phone. That could be important after all. 

“Yes?” she said.

“Miss Miller?” the Lieutenant Hawkeye said “Sorry to bother you at your home so early in the morning but… haven’t you seen the Colonel? It’s very unusual for him to be late and he’s not answering his phone.”

“He’s here” Amy stuttered “I can have him…”

“Good” she cut her, sighing with obvious relief “I was kind of hoping he'd be with you.”

“Is something the matter?” Amy asked with a trembling voice.

“No, don't worry. The Maria Ross case was hard on everyone, I was just a little concerned about the Colonel.”

She was gauging, trying to see how much Amy actually knew, how much he had told her. She was his right-hand man, so to speak, she wouldn't do such things as putting his interests in jeopardy. Or ratting him out to his… his girlfriend? Was that what Amy was? 

“I know” Amy just stated “He told me. Do you want me to put him on the phone?”

“No, it's alright. Just tell him there's paperwork waiting for him. Piles of it.”

“Sure, I'll do that. Have a nice day” she giggled and hung up.

So, even the Lieutenant had been worrying about him. Amy couldn’t really grasp the violence that had been thrown at him by the people who thought he had killed this woman. Were those reproaches as violent as Amy's towards herself regarding June? Perhaps even worse.

“That was the Lieutenant?” he asked, as he finished buttoning up his uniform.

“Yeah” she noticed he was already fully dressed, looking as fresh as if anxiety, sex never occurred “Don’t you wanna take a shower or anything?”

“No, thanks. I don’t want to end up with a bullet between my two eyes… which is definitely gonna happen if I get more late.”

“Be careful, okay?”

They kissed goodbye. The kiss lingered on a little before he left. She took a shower herself and when she made the bed she noticed he had forgotten his ignition gloves, folded neatly under his pillow. An old war habit. Or so Hughes said. Or so Amy remembered. 

_ Sometimes even, after a pretty rough mission, he wasn't even taking them off. _

Things were far from being settled, after all. 


	22. Solus homo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Only human

Amy walked down the corridor angrily. So in the end she had to come to Central military headquarters? He could have at least returned her calls, she had made sure to leave a message every time. She was worried, to tell the truth. She knew he was still making his secret investigation but… But she was also mad at him, somehow. He could talk to her a little more. How hypocritical, coming from her though… But if he could just rely on her, just a little… It wouldn't stop the worry. But at least she could be of some help. 

She finally found his desk. She knocked at the door and waited for the permission to enter the room. It never came. She knocked again and turned the knob. The door was locked. Locked? At this time of day? Where was the Lieutenant? Where were his men? On a mission probably. Nothing much for sure. They hadn't been wiped out, stressing out was useless. How could a soldier's wife go on, fearing for her husband all the time? She truly admired Gracia for doing so. With a little child. She walked around aimlessly until she found someone.

“Excuse me” she glanced at the man’s shoulders “Lieutenant, but do you know where I can find the Colonel Mustang?”

“Oh, the Flame Colonel… They didn’t tell you?” he looked at her from head to toes “Of course not, you’re a civilian.” What did that mean? “He just got admitted in Central Military Hospital” he probably noticed the fear in her eyes as he added quickly “He’s out of danger, don’t worry, he merely just got wounded on a mission.”

“That idiot…” she couldn’t help saying, he did go and do something terribly dangerous without telling her,  _ again _ “Thank you, Lieutenant, sorry for the bother.”

She almost ran for the exit and quickly waved a cab. That stupid Colonel! She gave the driver directions to the hospital. She knew he had something on his mind, she just should have insisted! 

They stopped working together on his research, she should have known better! He never stopped coming to see her but he never stayed long, she should have known better! Those moments they were having lasted what, twenty, thirty minutes? Perhaps one hour when he had time. Snuggling up on the couch, talking, sometimes  _ more _ . From the way he was acting, she should have known better! The hurried, worried kisses he was giving her… she should have known better! She walked quickly to his room. She should have known better, she should have known better. She raised a hand to knock at the door but stopped when she heard him angrily scold Hawkeye. 

True, she probably didn’t belong here, in his line of work. Even if she was holding his research in her hand. 

She waited patiently until the Lieutenant came out. From what she could hear despite her fear, they seemed to be discussing some big plan or something and she caught the Fuhrer’s name. Nothing that concerned Amy. Nothing she had even knowledge of. It hurt, terribly. She was feeling left over. By the very man she… She straightened up when the door opened.

“Oh, Miss Miller” Hawkeye smiled at her “You’ve been here for long?”

“Not really” she lied “Someone at the headquarters told me where to find you.”

“And this is…” she pointed at the file Amy was holding.

“The Colonel’s research. I’ve been working on it a little.” 

“Thank you” she whispered, putting a gentle but firm hand on her forearm “For coming to see him. You're always great help, you know.”

What was that again? Why everyone seemed to believe she was ever good support? But she nodded. Refraining from saying he was probably more here for her than she was here for him. Refraining from saying she didn't really know why she ran to the hospital. Was it out of duty or worrying? (She wouldn't dare to consider this an act of  _ love _ .) And she also refrained from opening the door too quickly, from rushing right to him. He was okay, she heard him talk. But yet, today, now, she was realizing...

“Colonel” she formally greeted “Second Lieutenant.”

“A… Miller” Roy slowly rose on his arms to sit on the bed properly “What are you doing here? You missed me or something?” he smirked at her.

“Yeah” she frowned, he was always doing that in public, she was no longer taken aback by his heavy flirting “I miss you doing your research job, actually” she handed him the file “I made progress on the translation, I’ve also sorted the alchemical symbols I could recognize but there are some things I don’t quite understand, so I can't go further. Some image about setting non-breathable air on fire…”

“Probably hydrogen” he opened the file and flipped some pages “The alchemy I use breaks the water in the air to create hydrogen, fuels it with oxygen and ignites it. And hydrogene’s not… breathable, strictly speaking. Where’s that image you don't understand?”

“There” she flipped two more pages “You see… it says  _ And he’ll put the air he cannot breathe on fire _ .” 

“You translated that far” he rubbed his chin.

“Well” she crossed her arms “Someone  _ had to _ . Since you neglected your research to come up with some…” she tried to keep her voice firm but it quivered a little “Some good plan to put yourself in a hospital bed!” 

“You were worried” he grinned fondly. 

“If I were not to return your calls, if you were to discover I ended up in a hospital bed, wouldn’t you be?” 

“Yeah, probably” he shrugged “I’m a gentleman, you know. Thanks for the translation, really. I’ll look into it, I’ll probably find something useful. Really, Miller...” weird, him saying her last name just sounded weird now “Give yourself some slack, you don't have to work when I'm not available to help you.”

He moved the file away. She noticed the bandages on his hand. She also could feel how bad he wanted to be a little more intimate with her. To call her by her name. To be touched by her. The vibes he was giving off were this obvious to read. But he also was too aware of the proximity of his subordinate and the last thing he wanted was to force that kind of things onto him. After all, she heard Havoc’s legs weren’t doing so good… 

“I could use a little walk” Roy whispered.

“Can you even walk?” she arched a brow and then bit on her lower lip, that was very blundering of her, why was she always like that? “Sorry, I…”

“Yeah… slowly… with a little help.” 

She helped him getting up. They remained silent as they walked down the corridors, the Lieutenant bodyguarding him at a reasonable distance, knowing how not to be intrusive. They managed to find a spot that wasn’t too crowded, there were few patients here and there but it should do the trick. It was normal to visit a superior that had been wounded on a mission, right? Even for an affiliate, right? She wouldn't put in jeopardy all the efforts he had been pulling not to be noticed or followed when he came to her place, right?  _ Right?  _ Roy hissed when he sat down and it felt heavier on Amy’s chest. Now she realized, he too could just disappear. For life was so fragile. Really, was she ever support for him? Or was she his weak spot? 

“What happened?” she asked as she sat next to him. 

“I won’t die” he looked at her straight in the eye, his brows frowned with resolve.

“That’s not what I asked” she frowned as well “If a will like that was powerful enough to keep oneself alive, nothing would ever die.”

_ With a will this strong, you would never die. _

“I…” he sighed, pulled a thick notebook out of his hospital gown pocket and held it out to her “Everything’s in it. It’s encrypted but I trust you will decypher it quite easily” he lowered his voice “You know my ways, after all.” 

“And this is…” she raised an interrogative brow.

“The compilation of my notes and research, every State Alchemist keeps one of those.” 

“You’re sure? I mean, you’ve always worked to keep me out of those kind of things.” 

“You said you couldn't go further, right?” he didn't seem to mean  _ further with work _ , and yet… “There's no use not telling you about my alchemy at this point.” 

This point being how intimate they were now, right she got that. He was implying so much, his choice of words was careful. So he thought they could be spied on right now? But by whom?

“Okay…” she said “I’ll read it.”

“Thank you.”

She wanted to say more. So much more. Perhaps even words like  _ I love you. _ But they were in public. And she was supposed to be an asset. Not a weakness. 


	23. Odium civium

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hatred of the nation

“What are you doing here?” Amy asked as she opened the door but the Colonel just came in without answering “You shouldn’t be discharged yet, your wound is…” she stopped as she saw him casually take off his coat “Colonel!”

“I’ve things to do” he answered with a neutral tone “I can’t afford to remain idle in a hospital bed” he glanced at her “And don't call me by my rank when it’s just the two of us.”

“So why are you even here?” she asked, annoyed.

“I wonder…” he teasingly purred as he hurriedly pulled her into a tight embrace.

She hated to admit it but she missed that: the rough way he had to always hold her, the tenderness of his kisses in perfect contrast, his scent, his shape, even the characteristic fabric of that uniform. She hated to admit it but she truly missed  _ him _ . She felt him tense with pain when she put her hands on his hips. She apologized as she locked her arms around his neck, her fingers running through his hair. 

“Sorry, I should have come and visit you at the hospital” she apologized “But I didn’t want to raise any suspicion, you were so careful when I popped by so I thought…”

“You did the right thing” he whispered “I just don’t have such resolve” he sighed “I had to see you” he held her tighter “I truly missed you.”

She could feel her cheeks blush as she nuzzled his neck to avoid embarrassment. She still couldn’t said them, words of love. She was trying, she really was. But the words were heavy. After all, last time she spoke them, someone died. 

“Easy” he giggled and she only realized then she was holding him a little too tight, he was still recovering “Someone’s eager” he joked “Did you miss me too?”

“You wish!” she answered though she was pretty much aware her entire attitude was saying the very exact opposite. 

“So…” he whispered in her ear “You won’t be disappointed to know I came here to have my research notebook back, will you?”

“Fine by me” she brought him a little closer “I just finished reading it.” 

“Already?” he pulled back to look at her face, probably to see if she wasn’t lying.

“Well, it isn’t exactly hard to decipher once you get the hang of it, I’ve seen you process alchemy formulas before, remember?” she playfully pinched his cheek “But seriously, Colonel, a date calendar encryption?”

“I’ve a reputation to live up to” he shrugged before becoming serious again “You read… all of it?” 

“Yes” she moved away from him and started to walked towards the kitchen “Even the part covering Ishval. I read… everything” she put the kettle to boil “You wanted me to, right?”

“I…” he sighed and passed a hand in his hair “I’m sorry, I just… I just couldn’t bring myself to tell you.” 

“I understand” she put some coffee in the pot “I knew already, I mean Hughes...” she took a deep breath “I don't judge, I understand. I understand better why you can’t stand being called a hero.”

“Because I’m not” he gently wrapped his arms around her waist “A hero is supposed to protect the people, not mass murder them” he nuzzled her neck “I don’t really want to talk about it, you know. That's why I had you  _ read _ it.” 

“I'm not disgusted, Roy. I'm not afraid of you either” she never was, not even now she knew all the gruesome details “Is getting to the top a way to atone for your sins?” she poured the hot water onto the coffee in a firm round movement “It’s just going to get you killed, you know.”

“Hey…” he squeezed her hips tenderly “I’ve seen worse than just climbing the ladder.” 

“I wasn’t talking about that…” she put down the boiler carefully and rose a hand to stroke his cheek with the back of her fingers “I mean, you’re already a Colonel at such a young age, of course you know how to make your way to the top. You’re always two steps ahead, you probably left the hospital with a plan in mind. No, I meant it like…” she took another deep breath “Once you’re here, at the top, once you’ve restored democracy… The people, they’re going to trial you, and they’re going to execute you. ‘Cause there’s no way they’ll overlook all this.”

“These things take time. I’ll be probably a very old man by the time I’ll be trialed” he chuckled though his fingers trembled a little.

“That’s not the problem!” she spat “Your ultimate goal will only lead you to your death! Don’t you care about it at all? Unless what you’re looking for is just… suicide by proxy?”

“Look at me” he moved away a bit to make room so she could turn around and face him “I know you're afraid. I know exactly why, Amy” his brows were frowned “I'm not trying to kill myself, just doing what's right for this country.”

“I…” she looked down “But you promised! You promised you wouldn’t abandon me! And yet… And yet you’re going to pick that path. You’re going to choose death over me!” she took her face in her hands “I can’t help thinking that way, I know it’s terribly selfish of me, that you deserve closure, that the Amestris people deserve to be free but…”

“That’s selfish, yes” he forcibly moved her hands away so she couldn’t avoid his gaze “That's the political act, the political change you always wanted, Amy. Isn't it why you entered underground spheres?”

“I never said you had to risk your life to make it happen!”

“But we have to! Or nothing will ever change, you know it! And you also know I've the power to make things change.”

Yes, he had. And yes, she knew. And because he had such power he thought it was his duty to take action. Like she thought it was her duty to pass on knowledge. But right now, she just…

“I don't want to lose you!” she yelled.

“Like you lost June?” he suddenly tensed “Sorry, that was…”

“It’s fine” she giggled nervously “It’s the truth, after all...” she held her hands to her chest “Roy, do we love each other? Or do we cling onto some shred of hope, slowly killing ourselves?”

“I'm not killing myself, neither are you” he tilted her chin and smirked, his voice softened “Did you just imply you  _ love _ me?” 

“I might have” she locked her arms around his neck again, sadly smiling.

“You’re mine, Amy” his words made her shiver “Mine and no one else’s.”

_ And surely not June's. _ She wished he said that but he didn't. 

“Then, if I’m yours, don’t you ever dare to abandon me” she was trembling “Don't you ever dare to die on me!”

Just another selfish request. Or perhaps a confession of love.

“I won’t. Ever.”

He probably meant his kiss to be caring, loving, to show her he was here and not going anywhere. It was her who was terribly eager and turned it into something desperately heated. She dragged him closer, being careful for he still was wounded. That wound was a shame, really. She really wanted him to take her right here, right now. To act on that possession he just claimed. To own her. To… 

“I can’t” he said between pants “I know I’m irresistible” he smirked and kissed her on the nose “But I got out against medical advice after all.” 

“You’re so full of yourself, Colonel Mustang” she faked annoyance.

“Hmm” he purred, giving her lips a quick peck “I love you too, Amy Miller. And I must admit, for someone not so keen on physical contact, you’re doing pretty good.” 

“Let me correct” she grinned as she moved a few bang away from his eyes “You’re full of yourself and an asshole.” 

He let out a little laugh and stepped away. Amy readjusted her clothes by tugging on them, trying to kill the sexual frustration that was starting to overwhelm her. Her fingers trembled when she put her hand on the pot to check if the coffee was still hot enough. 

“Can I stay here tonight?” he asked, almost shyly.

“Yes, of course” she turned her face to look at him “You don’t have to ask, you know.”

“I need… someone to help me take care of that wound…”

“And you don’t have to find yourselves excuses” she poured them coffee “You can stay if this is what you want. You don’t have to ask…”

“I have to ask” he made her back rest against his chest, it sent a thrill down her spine “I don't want to impose myself, or you not to feel safe.”

“I…” she felt her cheeks blush “I feel safe with you.”

More than safe, actually. She felt relieved. Like she had no longer anything to atone for. She felt  _ home _ . 


	24. Quisque homo peccator

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Every man's a sinner

They ended up doing casual things: making dinner together, eating dinner together and, the more casual thing of all, arguing over the research manuscript. They ended up going to bed late and Amy cursed herself for she should have paid closer attention: the Colonel was still recovering, sleeping late wasn’t exactly going to improve his condition. But well, it was done: she hadn’t seen time pass and now it was too late. He hadn't been exactly helping, acting as if he was cured already. Even now, trying to take off his clothes on his own, as if the pain wasn’t excruciating.

“Let me help.”

Her fingers were shaking. Come on, she did see him naked before. She did undress him before. Though she didn't want to see him wounded. Vulnerable. Mortal.

“Tss” she hissed, it had bled a little, he was far from being healed “I have to redo your bandage.”

“Thank you” he pinched the bridge of his nose, frowning, his voice was a little tired.

She opened the bathroom door and was surprised she remembered it all: towels, hot water, alcool, compress, bandages. She was pretty positive she had forgotten and still… She sat down at the end of the bed and undid the bandages wrapped around his belly with caution. She kept a compress pressed against the burn, an awful burn to say the least, with one hand and cleaned it with a towel. There was a little blood, a little impurities but when she looked at it it didn’t seem infected. She redid the bandage, not too tight. Even that, she remembered.

“You’re used to this” he pointed out as she got into the bed, by his side “I mean, you handled it like a professional.” 

Of course he noticed. Hard not to see her hands had quickly stopped trembling and her gestures were precise.

“My mother is a nurse” she replied with a neutral tone “And I used to hang around underground spheres, remember? People always think the underground world is one big community. In fact, two extremes cohabit there: those who crave for freedom and those who just want to enslave the minorities. A lot of fights undergo there, you know. I quickly learnt how to deal with knife wounds.”

“You got injured?” there was concern in his voice.

“No, not me. Friends did…” more than friends actually “June did.” 

“Sorry to hear that.”

“That’s okay” she shook her head.

But it wasn’t. This injury triggered it all: June’s insecurity, the depression that became a self-loathing obsession, the disgust with who she was… with whom she loved. She curled by his side and he held out a hand to pet her hair softly.

“So you learnt from your mother, a nurse” he calmly noticed, maybe trying to change the subject “You never talk about your family.”

“Neither do you” she came a little closer “But if you ask, I’ll tell you. There’s nothing to say about them. But there’s nothing to hide either.”

“You don’t love them?”

“I do but… But we never…” she sighed “We don’t understand each other, that’s all.”

“Oh, I see” he glanced at her “That’s a bit sad.” 

“That’s how it is” she gave his cheek a peck “Don't overthink it. You sleep well, wake me up if you need anything.”

“Sure. Good night.”

It felt a little awkward but she lied on her side all the same, trying to enjoy the warmth and the comfort of his presence. She wanted to sleep completely wrapped up in his arms but she could just put her head on his chest. She could hear his heart beat and his breathing slow down as he fell asleep, as his arm around her started to loosen its grip. It took her some time to be able to sleep as well. And it felt like she didn’t sleep at all. She woke up in a startle and she could feel her heart rate increase. Crap… She sat up and passed trembling fingers in her hair. Come on, calm down. Calm down. Why did she think about it? Why did she even realize it? She rubbed her arms. Come on, come on. She had to be wrong, she had to be!

“Hey…” she felt a gentle hand on her back “Are you okay?” 

“I’ve to check up something.” 

She got up quickly and ran for the shelves in the living room. This book, what was it called again?  _ Summa Theologica _ , yes, that was the one. Come on, where did she read about those again? She flipped over the pages. Here! She froze, her eyes widened. She wasn’t wrong. Oh crap. She wished she were. But of course not. Knowledge never failed her before. It surely wouldn’t now. She ran back to the bedroom.

“Roy…” she said in a hurry “That homunculus you killed, Lust was it?” 

“Yes” he frowned “What about her?”

“According to your notes, the Elric brothers mentioned there were more of them: Envy and Greed, who died. Here… look…” she pointed out a paragraph “The seven deadly sins, or cardinal sins. In this author’s conception of mankind, those are the worst vices one could have. Aristotle also…”

“Get to the point, Amy!” 

“That means there are seven of them! Seven!” she almost yelled “I don't get it… If someone were to create artificial beings, why would they make them incarnate the vices of man? That makes no sense! Wouldn’t their creator want them perfect? I don’t understand! I would have made them incarnate virtues! And…” her voice trembled “And the firepower it took you to only bring one down. And how such beings are  _ made _ , to begin with? I mean, they're powerful! How could the government not see such weapons were being produced?” 

“They’re not weapons” Roy rubbed his chin “They’re living creatures. That woman… She voiced feelings, self-consciousness, free will and… pride in her homunculus nature” he grinned “This must be bigger than I thought…”

“Just imagine if the five left were to attack  _ together _ ” she laughed, nervously “This country is so doomed.” 

“Perhaps not the country” he tried to rise “Perhaps just its people. I need to see how much the army is involved. You’re right, they cannot not have seen anything.”

“Don’t do that” she gripped on the doorway nervously “That’s… That’s probably how Hughes died, you know.”

“They won’t kill me, they could have done it already if they wanted to” the wrinkle between his browns deepened “And apparently I’m valuable.”

“What do you mean?” her voice quivered.

“That woman… she called me a human sacrifice. Meaning they need me for something, somehow and… Amy?”

The book fell on the floor with a thud. She was staring in blank, in shock. A human sacrifice? But a human sacrifice for what? And if he was that valuable, that only meant they were going to use his loved ones to get to him. That meant his men. And that also meant… _her_. He had been calling her everyday, he had been coming to her place more than often. Even if he had been careful not to be seen and such, it started to be a little too obvious he couldn’t spend a day without seeing her… She couldn’t say it, though. He probably already knew that deep within himself anyway. He probably knew already _she_ _was his biggest weakness._

“Am I just supposed to stand back and watch you go and risk your life trying to solve a nationwide conspiracy?” she ironically asked with a broken voice “Am I just supposed to wait for you to come home? To be your support and stuff? To be another of those soldiers’ wives?”

She was about to speak Gracia’s name but refrained from doing so. She couldn’t imply he could die that easily. As easily as Hughes. She wouldn’t stand it.

“I’m not asking you anything” he frowned “You do what you want. You stay with me if you want. I…” he sighed “I said selfish things like you’re mine and all but, well, if you don't want to be involved with me because of this...”

“Tell me the truth, Roy” she calmly said, sitting back on the bed “What do you want from me?”

“I…” he pinched the bridge of his nose, his fingers trembling “I want you to look at me, to care about me, to forget about that fucking June” he bit on his lower lip with rage “I want you to love me, okay? I… I… I’m prepared to be patient but I… I’m still afraid I won’t be enough, that you will leave me. Because, in the end, I’m not… June Stevenson, I’m just… me, you know. Another of those soldiers.” 

“Roy…” she looked at him, tenderly “Roy, please…” she wanted to say it, she wanted to say she loved him, she cared about him “I… I am...” her voice was dying in her throat, she couldn’t say it “Roy…”

So she just kept repeating his name. 


	25. In mediam insaniam

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the mouth of madness

Amy stirred and moaned. She glanced at her watch, she could use a little break. She had made a good job already: she would just grab a coffee, take some air… and go back in again. And this time she would just translate the Colonel’s manuscript, she wouldn’t be able to keep working on her own research, she was so bored with the golden image of the sun in poetry. She knew he had told her not to do anything when he wasn't around but well… Perfectly regular dactylic hexameters… She bit on her lower lip, how was she supposed to resist such utter perfection? Even the grammar was… 

Her train of thoughts stopped when she heard the firm steps of military men walking towards her desk. She looked at them as a strong feeling of uneasiness started to invade her. She stood up, trying to look composed and indifferent. But a knot formed in her stomach. A quick glance at the man’s shoulders was enough: he outranked the Colonel, they had made sure of that.

“Brigadier-General…” she formally said though she neither greeted him nor saluted.

“Miss Amy Miller…” his tone was cold, and so were his blue eyes “Come with us, please. Somebody will take care of that” he hissed when she started to gather her stuff “Just take the Colonel Mustang’s research with you.”

She was about to say she didn't bring it with her today but she didn't want to make it worse. There could be payback for her  _ insubordination. _ Like a career terminated at speed of light. Or a well-known State Alchemist demoted. Shit. They had made sure her hands were tied. Clever.

“Sure…” she frowned “But what is this all about?”

“Just come with us, miss. Everything will be explained at headquarters.”

She saw a soldier woman pack her stuff away. Amy took a deep sigh. She expected something like that to happen. She just wished the Colonel could have told her he was about to start his grandiose plan, aka testing the waters,  _ today _ . She would have at least kept the manuscript at home. That would have saved them some trouble. Bought them some time. Bought her some time to think of a strategy. Or just to brace herself. She nervously grabbed the file containing the research documents and her purse and followed the officer down the library hall. She could feel the gazes and hear the whispers of the students as she passed before them. Well, she would be the subject of another rumor.

“Are you arresting me?” she asked loud enough for everyone to hear “On what charges?”

If at least she could use the rumors a bit then… to make this not go  _ unnoticed. _

“Just come with us” he held the door open for her “I’d advise you behave” he dangerously whispered as she walked past him “We don’t want anything to happen to the Flame Alchemist, do we?”

She shivered. She knew the threat wasn’t real, that they needed him somehow, that  _ she _ was the expendable element in the equation. But still, the threat felt very real at this moment: Roy was wounded, vulnerable and she didn't know his whereabouts. 

He grabbed her by the arm and nearly jammed her into the car. Damn it, Colonel, what did you do? Were those waters that deep? Or did you happen to catch a fish that was too big? At least it was big enough for them to feel threatened. Nobody said anything and she was sitting between two soldiers during the entire ride. And when they went through the front gates, it seemed to her she caught a glimpse of the Lieutenant Hawkeye but she wasn’t really sure. And when they dragged her around the corridors, the atmosphere felt terribly tensed. 

“Wait here” the Brigadier-General sharply ordered her as he introduced her into a small room “And give me the research.”

She was about to protest some more but the memory of the threat to harm the Colonel was still very present in her body. She was completely tensed, her stomach all knotted up, feeling nauseous. Even if she was wearing a plain poker face that showed nothing. So she just held out the file and he snatched it away from her hand. 

She waited, for like hours. She waited and waited and waited. Nobody told her why she had been even brought here. At some point she asked to go to the bathroom, she just had a brilliant idea. Sitting on the toilets, she was staring at the razor blade, glimmering under the artificial lights. Those idiots didn’t even search her or her belongings. Those idiots didn't even consider a bookworm could be carrying something harmful. She carefully slid it in the pocket of her pants, really that was the very first time she was thinking of it as a defensive weapon. 

Good thing she was always carrying something like this for once. But she hoped she wouldn’t have to actually use it against someone. 

She waited some more and at some point they gave her back her school bag. She looked into everything, nothing had been stolen or replaced. Looked through but left whole. The Brigadier-General finally showed up and fetched her… only to drag her alongside more corridors. Really, keeping her in the dark the whole night was a good plan: her stress levels were terribly high. But Amy had experienced anxiety, all-nighters, insomnia before. She could still  _ think _ , even under high pressure.

“Please” he said as he opened some door, that was the first time he actually said something that polite to her “Come in.” 

“You’re serious, sir?” though fear was making her terribly mean “Can someone tell me what the fuck is going…”

“Good morning, Miss Miller.”

She froze right on the spot as she heard the greetings. That voice, that figure, no way! No fucking way…. His back was turned on her and he was looking by the window but there was no way she couldn’t recognize the Amestris leader, Fuhrer King Bradley. The Colonel was sitting at some table and when their eyes met she saw for a second fear and despair invade them. But he quickly frowned, he wouldn’t show the enemy how bad he was hurt right now. He wouldn't show the enemy their plan actually  _ worked _ .

She scanned the room. No bodyguards, a single sword resting against the table. He was that confident, even with the powerful Flame Alchemist in the room. And she thought a razor blade could do the difference! Ah!

“Please take a seat” Bradley told her and she obeyed “See, Colonel” and his voice was calm even if pure anger was pervading his tone “You should worry about your own weak spots as well.” 

“I…” Amy stopped when she heard Roy hiss and rub his forehead to hide his confusion and rage “I don’t understand” she tried to play dumb “What am I doing here?” 

It was obvious, what she was doing here: she was their hostage and was only brought to Roy so he could see they could have her where they wanted, how they wanted. She could bear with it, she could bear with the entire situation: they had no use in killing her, an hostage was only useful while alive and, honestly, she probably had tortured and pressured herself in the past four years more than anyone could ever think of. She would not break, she was sure of it. 

But Roy… she glanced at him, his hands were trembling. She wasn’t so sure Roy could bear with a situation like this. She wasn't so sure he could bear with the woman he loved being threatened before his eyes. Though he had to. She wanted to put a comforting hand on his forearm but she was afraid it would make him just appear  _ weak _ . 

“Miss Miller” Bradley turned around and he scrutinized her with his single eye, his stare was so piercing she felt as if undergoing dissection “What exactly do you think wrath is?”

“Wrath…” her eyes widened with horror, he couldn’t be implying that he was… but she glanced at Roy again and the deep wrinkle between his brows made it clear as day “Wrath is one of the seven cardinal sins though it’s a feeling considered a vice since Antiquity. Seneca the Elder wrote an essay on it and on the ways to keep anger at bay” her tone remained very detached and professional, it helped her gain some composure before delivering the final blow “And it’s likely the name of one of the homunculi who are so conveniently hidden within the country… how ironic, when you know Seneca's essay was meant for the future emperor.”

_ Wrath, _ then? Terribly ironic indeed, for someone playing dictator. After all, Nero too, Seneca's pupil, was prone to anger. And so was Claudius. Wrath probably was a dictator’s disease. 

“You’re terribly sharp” Bradley stated “Maybe we should have got rid of you sooner…”

“What?”


	26. In belvae stomachum

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the belly of the beast

“What?” the Colonel let escape with a trembling voice.

Come on, Roy, get a grip on yourself! He was always so cold and detached and professional when it usually came to such political matters, what had gotten into him? Was it because it was about  _ her _ ? That was ridiculous! Bradley was doing this  _ on purpose _ , couldn't he see?

“We could have you arrested for indecent sexual behavior” Amy shivered at the Fuhrer’s words, was there something about her they didn't know? “Or locked up for mental instability” Probably not “But I had great hopes in you. We had great hopes in you.”

“Hopes?” she frowned at his choice of words “What kind?”

“We always kept an eye on you, a brilliant student with an affinity with alchemy, you couldn't go unnoticed. You had all the qualities to become a brilliant State Alchemist” he glared at her “As for your dead girlfriend, why didn’t you transmute her? You had the knowledge and enough despair. But you turned out just as disappointing…”

Using the very words her parents once used against her was also pretty clever.

“I thought about it” she confessed “A lot, but… But I'm a classicist. If there are so many myths about failing to resurrect the dead, I thought it shouldn't be  _ that _ simple. Or the formula I easily came up with wouldn't have remained a secret or a taboo” she giggled “Humans don't care much about ethics when you're talking about immortality.”

Those were half-truths. Those reasons came to mind only months later. The real truth was Amy had been afraid. June had killed herself. What if she resurrected her only for her to commit suicide again? That was the real reason why she dropped all her research. She couldn't have born with June taking her own life again.

“I should have known you'd be too smart to take such bait” Bradley just answered.

Bait? What  _ bait _ ? Were they tricking people into attempting human transmutation? But to serve what purpose? Though it'd explain why the Elric brothers could walk around so easily. Even when the evidence of the committed taboo became obvious for everyone to see.

“That's enough” the Colonel said between clenched teeth “I guess we got your point.”

And he had put on her arm a hand that meant to be comforting. Though she felt he needed that physical contact more than she actually did. 

“I agree” she was surprised at how calm her voice sounded despite the anxiety eating her from the inside “Can we cut the threats and get to the part where you tell me what you expect of me? I mean, if you were to pressure him only you would just have mentioned my name, for implied threats make the fear stronger” she frowned, getting a bit more confident “If you made me come here, kept me waiting for a whole night, then confronted me to my lover as we're both weakened and sleep-deprived…” she bit her lower lip, her mouth was dry “Just what do you want from me?”

“Terribly sharp indeed” Bradley looked at her from head to toes “Then let's get straight to the point” he firmly put his hands behind his back “I'm positive you can, considering how close the two of you are, keep the Colonel from interfering too much with our plans. He's a precious candidate for the sacrifice” this human sacrifice thing, again! “It'd be a shame to lose such a promising element.”

“I see…” she cynically smirked “You basically want me to tug on the leash if your military dog wanders off the right path” she wrung her hands “Except I'll be the one receiving the blows if he were to stray off in the end, that's clever” she giggled nervously “There's no way I could refuse in a situation like this.”

“You can keep working on your research, you can keep seeing each other, you can keep doing anything you want as long as it doesn't interfere with our plans.”

“I understand” she felt numb and detached all of a sudden, as if  _ this  _ wasn't happening “And I yield.”

And when she said those final words it just felt like earth swallowed her entirely. She heard Roy protest, yell at her in frustration. But she said nothing more. She was a walking dead. She didn't care when the Brigadier-General came to fetch her. She didn't care when they gave her back her belongings. She didn't care when they drove her back home. She only cared when she entered her apartment. Her legs were shaking, her nausea intensified, the weight on her chest got heavier, the knot in her stomach tightened… She ran to the toilets and started to throw up. 

_ It can’t be… _

_ Using me like that… against the man I love… _

_ It can’t be… _

_ Using him against his own country… _

Could Roy save Amestris now? With her as their hostage? The pain, the spasms of her already empty stomach, the dread. Why did she accept that easily? Couldn't have she fought back? Why did she yield? Was this how she pretended to  _ love _ him? What a fraud! She got up, wavering. She had to put her hands on the walls to help herself walk towards the bathroom. Her panic wasn't easing. Was it how she pretended to be good support for a man that needed her? She had them, somewhere, those magical white pills that made everything look brighter. 

_ Don't throw them up, you bitch! _

She gulped them down quickly with some tap water. It didn't take long to kick in: she was dead tired, panicked and her stomach had been all emptied. She sat and then lied down on the floor, looking at the flickering ceiling lights. Were they flickering? Or was she just imagining them? She stared at them. And stared and stared. Until a black-haired head invaded her field of vision. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” the Colonel asked her, a worried look on his face.

“Coping with my shit life…” she rolled her eyes.

“Come on” he kneeled to help her get up “Jeez, you’re so cold. How long have you been lying here?” 

“Don’t know…” she rolled her head back on his shoulders. 

“Are you… drunk?” he asked as he tried to turn on the hot water of her bathtub. 

“High…” she whispered “Nothing I can’t handle.” 

“Really…” he kissed her on the temple and leaned it a bit to test the water “A good bath will warm you up.”

“Roy… I…”

“Come on” he repeated “Get up.”

He helped her undress and was surprised not to see new red lines on her belly, to find the blade in her pocket, unused. Then he helped her get in the tub, lay down in the warm water. She sighed with ease. She felt light all of a sudden. As if she was floating. In a sea of nothingness. 

“Roy… I am sorry…”

“What for?” he sadly smiled at her, moving a few bangs away from her forehead “You were very brave back there, surely more than I. You have nothing to apologize for, you had no choice but to comply.” 

“They would have come after me if I didn’t.”

“I know.”

“It would have made you sad.” 

“Yes.”

“Come in the bath with me” she held out a lazy hand to poke him on the chest.

“Amy…” he whined. 

“Come in the bath with me.”

“Okay.”

He undressed and stepped in. He was very careful for she seemed a bit unaware of her surroundings and of where she stood compared to them. He wrapped his arms around her waist so her back rested on his chest. She felt warm. She felt safe. She felt  _ home _ . She felt like… like he was the only thing she needed. 

“I love you…” she said and she stared at the wall between half-closed eyelids.

“That’s the worst possible moment to say it, you know…”

“I… I love you” she repeated.

“Amy, you’re high” his lips trembled when he kissed her nape “You don’t know what you’re saying.”

“I’m not that high, Roy…” 

Just enough to forget how desperately she wanted to destroy everything. Herself included. Herself especially. She glanced at the sink, she could see the pills from there. Round, white, hypnotizing. She needed another one, the effects were wearing off. But he was kissing her neck. With such desperate tenderness.

“What am I going to do?” he asked “If I can’t even protect my men, if I can’t even protect you. How can I even dare to try and reach the top after that?” 

“Roy…” she gently squeezed his hand under the water.

“I feel so powerless.”

“You’re strong” she said with a soothing voice “You’re awfully strong. You killed one of them, this is basically their revenge. They fear you, Roy. Because you’re awfully strong.”

“Am I?”

“Yes…” she blinked, trying to focus a bit.

But he just nuzzled her neck. But they just remained silent, clinging onto each other.


	27. Venenum

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Any kind of drug, medicine, poison

What happened next was very confused in Amy’s mind. What did they talk about? Did they even talk? Amy couldn't remember. Just glimpses. Perhaps she shouldn't have taken that extra pill when he turned his back for a second. She didn't even remember if he noticed. Probably. If she closed her eyes she could see him cook for her - pasta, he wasn't such a good cook - and tuck her in. How many pills did she take? She couldn't even remember that. But she remembered how bad she slept: he had been waking her up every two hours or so. He had been that worried but still. Now her mind was foggy, she couldn't work.

“You're awake?” she heard him ask behind her back.

Why was she blaming him? She was the one who wanted to obliterate it all. But reality was a tough cookie: it died hard. She rolled on her back and stared at the ceiling. The curtains were still closed. Good. No lights. 

“Yes.”

Her voice was a bit hoarse and by the time she spoke she felt terribly nauseous. And thirsty. Her dull headache intensified. 

“Look at me” that was an order, or at least it sounded like it.

She didn't know if she could do it, roll on her side and face him. She felt so nauseous she could throw up anytime. But she closed her eyes, but she made that effort. Her head wasn't spinning at least. Though the migraine hurt her right behind the eyes. 

“Look at me” he said again. And it definitely was an order.

She slowly opened her eyes. He seemed relieved. And terribly frightened. Ugh. Amy wasn't making much sense today, was she?

“How do you feel?”

“Like shit” she tried to smile but frowned instead, her head was about to explode.

“I bet” he sat up on the bed “Come on, try to get up.”

“I’m okay” she mumbled “It'll pass.”

She knew how this felt like: a really bad hangover. Okay, maybe like  _ the worst hangover ever _ . But she knew how to deal with it, it wasn’t her first time. Good she was still in a second state of some sort, it kept the guilt at bay. She could look at him right in his anxious eyes, she was feeling no guilt. Yet. It took her a lifetime to sit up, then get up, then manage her way to the bathroom, then to the kitchen. But she was still as good as ever, she didn't forget to bring the aspirin. Just like she was thinking: the lights were too bright and her head hurt even more. Roy was already making coffee when she sat down. 

“I don't want you to do this. Not ever again” his tone was cold, and sharp.

Amy would have cared if she wasn't just out of it. He seemed so angry, his shoulders were so stiff she could see it from here. She would have cared if her body wasn't just a big loaf of pain. Utter pain. She just wanted it to stop. She just wanted to sleep. She glanced at him when he put a half-filled cup of coffee before her. She never answered though.

“What did you do that for anyway?” he sat on the chair before her and every noise felt like torture.

Amy put two aspirins in her cup. The coffee bubbled, made a strange foam that looked utterly disgusting. She looked at it as if fascinated.  _ Because I’m weak _ , she wanted to say,  _ Because you call me strong but I am weak. _ But the words never pass the sealed barrier of her lips.  _ Because you need me strong but I am weak.  _ She took a sip of her drink and frowned some more. It tasted like shit. 

“Amy…” he was started to lose patience, his fingers drummed on the table. 

“Stop that” she finally let out.

“Answer me.”

Of course he wasn't stopping. She had to say something. But she had no reason, she saw an opportunity and she just did it. Yes, she was that much of a piece of trash. She never claimed to be good. And she always said she would end up hurting him if he kept getting too close. It was his fault. He never listened.

“Because I hate myself” she said, calmly.

It was her fault. She sent too many desperate signs. It was her fault. She wanted to bond. It was her fault. She wanted to be loved. Again. So she was just a burden, a dead weight. A piece of trash. A useless being. A…

“But I love you” his voice betrayed insecurity “And yesterday, I couldn't even recognize you. Your eyes…” he bit on his lower lip, he rubbed his eyes, Amy knew he wanted to cry “I love you. So you can’t do that.”

“You can't tell me what to do, Colonel Mustang.”

So she was doing the one and only thing she could do: she pushed him away. Because she couldn't do it before, she was doing it now. Better safe than sorry. But he wasn't safe. And she was sorry. She saw him get up. She saw his hand come closer to her face. She heard the sound of the slap. She felt it. Perhaps. She was already hurting so a little more or a little less...

“Feeling better, now?” 

She never saw him that angry. She felt like he was about to kill her. She would have been angry too. She just told him his love wasn't enough. She just told him he wasn't enough. Everything June made her feel. That wasn't fair. So why wasn't he just walking away? She was about to spit out more atrocities but he kneeled down and rested his head in her lap. Amy felt numb. Once more she didn't know what to do. 

“I don't want you to do that ever again” he repeated “You weren't yourself, it scared me. It scared me so much.”

Amy petted his hair with one hand, held her cup with the other, taking a sip of the strange mixture from here and then. She was conflicted. She had to cut him off, she had to let him go. She had to free him from her. Especially now Bradley had his grip on her. But there was no such thing as a clean breakup. And it hurt her to hurt him like that. 

What to do next?

Amy didn't have the answer to that question. So she just kept stroking his hair. Hoping her thoughts would settle in her mind. Hoping she would snap out of it. 

_ But you'd break without me.  _

What to do next indeed? Amy didn't have the slightest idea: the man was as strong as he was weak.

“I can't promise anything” she finally muttered after what felt like a lifetime “I just… can't. I don't want to do that either…” the words felt heavy, it was somehow hard to talk “I know no other way.”

“There's always a way” good, his voice sounded confident again “If you're lost, I can find it for you.”

“Roy…” she put down her cup, she was now running both her hands in his hair, in his soft hair “You don't have to do this. I'm hopeless.”

She said it. She finally said it. Hopeless. Beyond hope, beyond help. Beyond any kind of feeling, even love. Go away. Please, just go away. I can't even understand why you love me so much. 

“So am I” his head never left her lap, she could have sworn he was smiling “Am I not a stupid idealistic idiot?”

“Yes, you are” his soft locks felt weird under her touch but for some reason she couldn't stop playing with them.

“I love you” he simply said and her heart skipped a beat.

“I…”

_ I love you too.  _ She wanted to say that. But she had a bad taste in her mouth. There were words that still couldn't be spoken. And it still hurt to be told she was loved. And it still hurt to see someone care for her, care about her. It forever would. She didn't even know if she believed them, those words, her own feelings. Her heart was beating fast, at least she was sincere. She either loved him or fooled herself enough to believe she loved him. In the end it didn't make much of a difference.

“I'm sorry” she muttered, without knowing what she was apologizing for.

“It's okay” he moved away to face her, a sad smile on his lips “I know you love me, you don't have to say it” oh gosh her heart was beating even more “I know you're trying to preserve me by cutting me off. But...”

Stop it stop it stop it! How many insanities would she have to say before he understood he had to back off? 

“I need you, Amy.”

“But I am…”

“I love you”

But your words are unfair, Colonel!


	28. Eae quae relicate sunt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Those left behind   
> (eae is a feminine only)

Amy knocked softly at the door. She took a deep breath. How long had passed since she last came here? Her fingers tightened around the handles of the kraft bag nervously. She could hear the soft sounds of steps on the other side of the door. The knot in her stomach tightened. Showing up was probably a bad idea. But the door opened, she could flee no more.

“Oh Amy, good morning” Gracia sadly smiled at her “It’s been a long time… Please, come in.” 

She moved away. The apartment was just as the same: the furnitures, the pictures of the three of them, with the Lieutenant-Colonel. Even the military ones from the Academy, from their graduation, where he obviously posed to annoy Roy. Those pictures were all so refreshing Amy couldn't help smiling. That was not so long ago. But they seemed so much younger. Well, that was before all this, before Ishval. Their eyes were so bright, so full of hope. Neither sad nor frightened.

“They’re gorgeous on it, aren’t they?” Gracia whispered as she picked up the picture and rubbed her sleeve on the already clean glass “I met my husband around that time… He was always fooling around, always trying to find something new to piss Roy off” she chuckled and for a second her whole being was lit up with happiness “They were just goofing around, sincerely thinking the military would provide for them, help them make the world a better place.” 

“He did make the world a better place” Amy wasn’t sure of what she should be saying, she didn’t want to shut down such epiphanic moment “He welcomed me to your home with no hesitation, he welcomed the Elric brothers, he welcomed their friend Winry…” she put a gentle hand on Gracia’s shoulder “He did make a difference, you know.”

At least he did make one for her. At least he did help her understand Roy a little better. And perhaps herself as well. 

“Amy, I…” Gracia was about to say something but was interrupted by Elicia’s laughter running joyfully towards them “Thank you” she just let out.

And Amy smiled. She kneeled down and opened her arms wide to welcome the little girl. She seemed a little gloom but, well, she did lost her father after all. And she was too young to understand it completely so she was just experiencing the loss, the pain of missing him, slowly understanding he was never to come back home. If she hadn’t completely understood that already by now. Amy hugged her and rubbed her small back. She never was at ease with kids and Elicia wasn’t an exception. But kids liked her, kids had always liked her. She tended to stand for a motherly figure. How ironic, knowing she would never be one herself. 

“I’ve got a surprise for you” she whispered in the girl’s ear tenderly “Actually, it’s also from Roy.”

“He couldn’t free himself again?” Gracia asked, concerned.

To be perfectly honest, he had been fleeing. He couldn’t bring himself to come and visit the wife and child of his best friend, of the very man he failed to protect. The idea itself was just making him sick and Amy tried several times to talk him into reason. But she sure knew a lot about guilt as well, so she didn’t really insist either. He’d show up when he’d be ready. Otherwise it’d be just a sad meeting. From a soldier’s wife to another soldier’s wife, those things felt more bearable. Anyway, today he was busy with this rendezvous thing. He said he’d drop by the cemetery and offered to put flowers on Hughes’s grave for her. And also on June’s. They were both doing social visits. Of different kinds. 

“He has a lot of work” Amy remained pretty vague “Central is sure the big deal… Look what I got for you” she playfully added as she pulled out a stuffed dog from the paperbag. 

Amy expected to see joy or a glimpse of something similar cross Elicia’s face but the little one went straight for the fabric of Amy’s sleeve. Violently. She had tears in her eyes and was working a great deal not to shed any of them. Maybe the gift was too much, maybe she was getting too close, trying to replace her dad too soon by offering things, like he used to do. They were still mourning, all of them. What had she been thinking? That life would just go back the way it was? 

“I don’t like it” there was a tremolo in the little girl’s voice “If he works too much… They’ll bury him… just like daddy…” Amy took her hands in hers gently “I miss daddy…”

“I miss him too.”

That was the truth. At least. Sincerity, sincere feelings were probably all they had left. He only had been an acquaintance and still she missed him. It wasn’t feeling the same without the Lieutenant-Colonel, well  _ Brigadier-General _ , around. Without his spontaneous ongoing happiness and his stupid jokes and his constant bragging. And his smiles. The military sure loved to promote the dead. As if there was actual  _ honor _ in death. In the end it just hurt the same. Amy hugged the child some more. Elicia finally looked at the toy and seemed grateful. She played with it the whole afternoon and even named it ‘Canis’. Gracia offered Amy some tea and a slice of apple pie and she didn’t have the strength to refuse. After all, she came here on a social visit. 

“I heard you’re looking for a new place” the woman said, handing her the plate.

“Yes” Amy took it, the pie smelt as delicious as always “We decided to start living together.”

They didn’t have to hide their relationship from the higher-ups anymore and the Colonel was always cramming at her place, always bringing with him an extra change of clothes, some alchemy books, paperwork he hadn’t time to finish… He was basically living there by now and she was starting having a hard time to find somewhere to put his cleaned uniforms. He had so many of them, she would have never suspected. She had to sell back June’s camera to make some room. She had discarded most of the pictures of her she still had, just kept one or two. But she liked to think of it as progress. Sometimes she was still planning on breaking up with him, on freeing him from her, but his words of love made it hard to act on it. 

“That’s great” Gracia smiled as she took the seat before Amy “To be honest, Maes thought you were already together…” she smiled “And so did I.”

“That was…” Amy rolled her eyes “Complicated.”

“Don’t worry, I understand” she sipped on her tea “Roy’s reputation made it probably difficult to think of him in a serious relationship.” 

That wasn’t it, that wasn’t because of  _ him _ . She had spotted his softness behind his jerkass facade in the first moments they started to talk about serious subjects. She saw what his true beliefs were and was more or less able to drew a blurry picture of the person he could be. No, no, his seductive behavior wouldn’t have stopped her. She had stopped herself. And had stopped him for he obviously waited until he couldn’t bear with the excruciating pain tearing him apart to finally get intimate with her. Would he have got closer, ever, otherwise? And what was she thinking even? Just in front of the person whose husband  _ died _ . 

“But in the end, I’m glad he found someone like you” Gracia glanced at her “I know you had your… own issues, coming back. We all deal with life the way we can. And yet you remain, yet you keep coming to see us, you keep playing with Elicia” Amy knew what she meant by that “Roy’s not. He just can’t, can he?”

“I swear, he's trying. He just feels so… guilty” and yet Gracia didn't know how much that guilt increased since the Fuhrer threatened Amy, how bad he was sleeping at night, how worried he always was “I'm sorry…”

“It's okay” she put a gentle hand on Amy’s forearm “It's just… He knew Maes, his fears, his character and…”

“He knew him intimately” she took Gracia’s hands in hers “They were terribly close. War does that.”

“He told you…”

She started to cry. Well, he didn't exactly tell her anything but his notes were enough to understand. And Amy understood. She understood the woman just wanted to talk about her husband, about who he was. Not about that goofy facade he had built to put his anxiety at bay. About his true inner self. Something only her and Roy ever saw. Something Amy couldn’t even consider. War. War all soldiers fear. War all soldiers’ lovers fear. And ironically a war her husband survived to die at home. 

In the end, it just hurt the same. 


	29. Sacramentum timendum

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fear of commitment

Amy was running away. Basically. She couldn’t help it. She was trying and trying but she was just turning colder and colder. It was just fear. Not even an excuse. Just tremendous fear. She kept the Colonel at a distance and was almost aggressive each time they talked. Not almost when they were packing her things, she was practically at his throat. He did nothing to deserve it. She was just running away. How came she didn't realize what it meant to actually  _ live with someone _ ? She wasn't ready for that kind of commitment. Weren't she and June supposed to start living together after Amy passed her exams? What a joke!

So Amy was running away from home, from his arms, from the warmth and comfort she was lacking so much. So Amy was just running away.

She wanted him, though. She needed him. His arms, his warmth and comfort. She needed him so bad.  

But each time he touched her, all she felt was disgust. Not towards him. Towards herself. And of course he wasn’t understanding. Of course he tried to talk to her several times. Of course he made sure to come home to her every day and night. But Amy was just running away. 

She made sure not to be there when he came back, being out partying, drinking, whatever could help her forgetting herself and her responsibilities. Amy knew the places, Amy knew how to contact people. But this time she didn’t go there to discuss political matters. Politics also reminded her of him. They discussed some on the first day they met. And Amy had fallen in love with his ideals. She was lucky those places were different. Some guys hit on her shamelessly, even a girl dared to once, in some gruesome underground bar. But to her very surprise she remained completely faithful. Maybe because an affair would have implied showing her scars to somebody else. Though she did enjoy making out with that girl at some point. Being kissed by a girl felt so different. And more like June. And nothing like the Colonel. 

For she was just leaving home behind again. 

Amy knew the underground spheres. It was the only place where June and her could pretend to evolve as a couple. Amy knew what kind of persons went there and she never was scared. They were mostly “sexual deviants” just like her, but some were also illegal immigrants, political opponents, controversial artists, junkies, prostitutes. Amestris finest. Amy didn't come back here to find a girlfriend either, even if that girl was a pretty good kisser. Not as good as Roy, though. She basically came back here to obliterate herself between booze and drugs. She also wanted to be somewhere he couldn’t find her.

Or so she thought. 

This one gathering had been set in a basement and it was so late she had forgotten already how many drinks she had or how many joints she had smoked. She was wasted for sure. And if she kept going like that, he would leave her behind. And she would never have to commit again. And she would be on her own again. And everything would be fine. Again. She looked around, she could barely grasp what the people around her were saying. She was seeing lips moving, hearing sounds being produced but she just couldn’t grasp any meaning. It was a foreign language. She heard knocks in the distance and a door being opened. She heard the password too, or at least she thought she had recognized it. She couldn’t recognize anything anymore at this point. 

“Is a Amy Miller, here?” a woman asked.

“Yeah…” Amy waved up a lazy hand, her own arm felt abnormally light as if it was about to detach itself from her body and fly away “Who’s asking?”

“Me.”

She froze. She knew that voice. So he did manage to find where she was hiding in the end. She held out a hand to pour herself another drink but he grabbed her wrist swiftly. So he was  _ this close _ even. Did he teleport himself from the other side of the room or what? 

“That’s enough” his voice was ice cold.

She turned her head and looked at him. It was the very first time she saw him in civilian clothes. A three-piece suit, really? Black tie, grey scarf, long black coat, polished shoes and all. Why did he have to look so fucking gorgeous in every attire he picked? Why did he have to be so good-looking all the time? Even the military gown looked good on him, that wasn’t fair! How could she not love a man like that? So perfect… That wasn’t fair! 

“I paid for that” she hissed “And I noticed you left the uniform home for once.”

“Hey!” 

Amy was wasted but not wasted enough to be this careless. She knew what the words she just said meant. She knew how they were considering the military in places like this. The owner was quick to draw out a gun and point it directly at the Colonel’s head. Amy wasn’t shocked or anything. 

“You’re military?” the woman asked, her finger on the trigger. 

“I…” Roy started as he rose his hands in reddition. 

“He’s a State Alchemist” Amy added as she poured herself another glass, now her hands were free “His silver watch must be somewhere…” 

“Really?” the owner spat as she cocked her gun, searchin the Colonel’s pockets and pulling out the so-called object “Indeed, he is… What is your business here?”

“I…” Roy closed his eyes and sighed “I’ve no interest in your little reunion or whatever illegal activities you indulge in. I’m not even on duty, can’t you see? I’m just here to take my girlfriend back home.”

“A lovers quarrel… How sweet” but she wasn’t moving the gun away “And what a convenient excuse.” 

“What don’t you ask her?” he glanced at Amy who took down her drink bottoms up. 

“Miss?” the owner looked at her with an interrogative look.

“I’m not his girlfriend” she whispered sadly as she tried to lit what remained of a joint.

Couldn’t he just go home, leave her be? Couldn’t he just break up? She’d just keep going like that until he left, she could carry on with such dangerous spree. She had done it once already. And it didn’t even endanger her studies. She still remained a hella smart ass student with good grades. While partying. While doing drugs. While trying to forget June Stevenson ever lived. Still the top of her class. What kind of fucked up joke was it, when some students were trying so hard just to be average, uh. 

“Sir, I’m sorry but I have to ask you to leave.  _ Now _ ” she moved her gun closer to his head but he didn’t even quiver.

“Amy, that’s not funny” he sighed, obviously trying to keep his composure in such an hostile environment “Let’s just go home before it gets ugly.”

She giggled. But she was ugly. He just had to take a look at her. He would see how ugly she was. Just go away! She didn’t need his pity. How far did she have to go to make him understand she was  _ soiled _ ,  _ rotten _ ? Maybe if she kissed one of those random dudes, it’d do the trick. Or a girl, it’d be even more shocking!

“Amy, that's enough” so cold, so sharp, so deadly.

He couldn't stand seeing her like that. Good. Just a little more would do. And that woman wouldn't let him stay here forever. Amy could buy more time. And everything would be over. In the blink of an eye.

“Sir…”

“I'm not leaving without my girlfriend” and in her tone Amy recognized what could have been the Hero of Ishval on the battlefield. 

“We don't deal with the military here, either on or off duty” the woman’s brows narrowed some more “This is my last warning. I think we have been more than understanding so far.”

The gun was drawn dangerously close to his head. But Amy couldn't care, Amy wasn't scared at all. As if the threat wasn’t real. The threat probably wasn't real. Nobody was stupid enough to murder a dog of the military for just intruding. And in cold blood. Everybody knew how much the government cared about its little pets.

“Sir…”

The owner started but couldn’t finish her sentence. Roy quickly twisted her arm to disarm her, he checked the gun which was, as he assumed, empty. He angrily dragged Amy away from the table. His eyes were dark with anger, she never saw him like that before. She didn’t even try to justify herself. She waited for the moment his anger would turn into disgust. But the moment never came. He just looked at her and she felt terribly wrong. She was the one who felt disgust. Towards herself. She started to cry. 

“Let’s go home” but his voice didn’t soften.


	30. In odio diligi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> To be loved in hatred

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I won't be able to update this story next week, and perhaps even the week after, for I'm about to pass important oral exams  
> I'm not abandoning this story, just focusing on my work for the days to come

“Let's go home.”

She nodded and followed him obediently. Her hands trembled when she opened the door of his car and kept her purse close to her chest. As if focusing on that tiny speck of reality would be enough to avoid the storm that was coming. She blinked several times. She was high. And drunk. But neither high nor drunk enough not to remember any of this. The worst possible scenario. She was used to stronger stuff, she was the only one to blame here.

A fool. As smart as stupid, she was. This man had...

He got in the car as well and slammed the door briskly. She jolted. He wasn't starting the engine. He rubbed his eyes several times, probably trying to find the right words to tell her.

_ It's over. _

That was the best moment to say it. Come on, girl! Those are just words. She opened her mouth but made no sound, just a strangled gasp. Come on! Just words! Be an adult, take responsibility. Open your mouth, say it.

_ It's over. _

She couldn't. She couldn't speak. She couldn't even think straight. Her thoughts were all jammed up and confused. She was mistaking words for others. She looked down. Her hands were trembling even more. The panic. The panic was rising in her belly. No! Not now! Not when she was drunk, not when she was high. It would just loop again and again. And she'd be unable to deal with it. She tugged on her sleeves and shook her head. She glanced at Roy. Good, he was too lost in his own thoughts to even notice her distress. 

_ This is useless.  _

Her fingers wandered aimlessly alongside her purse. They curled into fists when she was roughly kissed. Her eyes widened, she didn't see that coming. When did he even move? She didn't see him! His tongue forced its way in and practically took over her mouth. It was violent. Not kind. It tasted like anger, fear, despair. And Roy. And love. His love. Amy was weak. Perhaps she kissed back. She wasn't sure.

The man had forgiven two kids who committed the ultimate taboo. Of course he would forgive her as well. 

The kiss didn't remain rough for long. It became pretty sweet quickly. And then Amy was positive she was kissing back. He pulled back only when he was short of breath. And fear had replaced anger in his eyes. His beautiful black eyes. Beautiful, even in a situation like this. How was she supposed to resist? That wasn’t fair! 

“Amy” he rested his forehead against hers, their noses were rubbing. And she was melting even more “Amy, are you… breaking up with me?”

As if she could say yes in a situation like this! His hands cupped her face, his thumbs stroked the skin of her cheeks. As if she could say yes when he was doing this! How unfair! But she didn't have the strength to talk. She didn't even have the strength to say no. 

“You were there for me, so close, so caring. And now suddenly, you’re avoiding me!” he went on, pulling back a little to look at her “We’re about to live together! I thought you were just scared and I understand why but… But when you said you weren’t my girlfriend, it hurt!” his grip tightened when he said it, as if to prove he meant it “It just hurt” he repeated “I love you, I really love you. I know how clichéd it is and how ironic it could sound coming from someone like me but I feel like…”

Like he'd love only her. Amy knew. He didn't have to say it. He didn't have to say anything. Amy no longer had the strength to run away. And she was feeling guilty. She was failing him.

“So stop thinking you're not good enough for me” oh he went on talking, in the end she didn't even listen “I know you love me, you wouldn't work so hard to disgust me if you weren't.”

She was this predictable, then? Such an open book for him? What happened to her well-built defense she was so proud of? It was just as she feared: he had cut right through, now she was exposed. She could no longer lie to him. She was exposed. As if naked. So she delivered her final blow. So she played her last card. If this didn't work, she would have no choice but to yield.

“I still love June” she was happy to be drunk at least, those words didn't even sound real “Not you.”

Then time stopped. Time suspended even. Amy felt like she was floating in nothingness. Oblivion, perhaps. None of this felt real. Not the seat under her. Not the purse between her fingers. And surely not his hands on her face. It all felt like a dream. When he pulled back to look at her, his eyes didn't betray any pain. He was smiling even. What? Smiling? Amy was sure she was dreaming. Or hallucinating. Or both. 

“Will you ever stop lying?” his smile grew wider “There's nothing you could say that'll make me walk away.”

Why wasn't he mad? After all the dirt that came out of her mouth.

“You no longer love her. All you feel is guilt. Even if it was once love, it no longer is” his voice was so calm, so composed, hard to think he was so mad just a few minutes back.

Or it wasn't a few minutes? Or much more time had passed and Amy didn't notice? But she had to yield now, right? Her last card wasn’t even strong enough. Her last lie wasn’t even believed. Amy herself no longer knew what to believe. The world blurred. The entire world blurred and it took her a little time to realize tears were in fact invading her eyes. She didn’t know what to do anymore. 

“Why?” she finally managed to ask with a feeble voice “After all that I did, after all that I said, after all that I…”

He made shushing sounds. His hands felt so comforting and Amy lost herself in her own stream of consciousness. Yield. She had to yield. She had to accept him, his love. She no longer had a choice.

_ Is it… ? Unconditional love? _

_ Am I really worthy of such devotion? _

She closed her eyes, feeling pretty tired all of a sudden. The substance effects were probably starting to wear off, leaving her caught between a strong sense of unreality and a hyper conscience of her own self. She could feel her heart beat fast against her ribcage, the slight nausea that came with dehydration. That wasn't really pleasant. It also was harder to keep her eyes open.

“Let's go home” he repeated.

She nodded and he started the engine. Amy leaned in her seat and looked by the window. It was all coming back to her, slowly. The inside of the car was warm, soothing. The street lights passing by hypnotizing. Everything felt as if in slow motion. She didn't like it, this feeling of in-between. Her palms were sweating. She was sweating. Great, the effects were wearing off for sure. Now she was just feeling bad. Now all she could feel was dread. A strong sense of failure. The kind of feeling that makes you want to throw yourself under a car. Or sleep for an entire month.

“We're almost here” his voice sounded far away, almost surreal “Hang in there, everything's fine.”

Yes, everything was fine. She wouldn't be left alone. Not again. Not ever again. He wasn't June. He would just love her, he would just  _ love _ her. Never  _ leave _ her. Never burden her with guilt. Maybe the people would take him away from her one day, maybe she'd lose him at some point. But that wouldn't be abandonment.

Did Amy really have to go that far to prove herself that?  _ Yes.  _ Being chased after was the only way she had to counter her fear of being left alone.  _ No. _ She didn't have to do such things. But she wanted to hurt him somehow. For she also held him responsible. 

She had sworn June was the woman of her life, she had sworn she would never love someone like that again. And, well, to be honest, this man, she loved him even more.

He wasn't to be held responsible for her own feelings. She knew she wasn't really being fair. He had been honest, true, gentle, not forcing. Still was. Also overprotective and lacking trust in her. Perhaps. But not guilty of anything. At least not against her.

_ I'm sorry. I'll do better starting now. I'll fight. For you. For me. For our life together. _

Perhaps she said it. Perhaps she just thought it. In such state, it was hard to tell the difference. And she kept looking at the street lights, hypnotized. Each one passing, bringing them closer to home.


	31. Adventura

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What's to happen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I managed to get an internet access but for today only this week (still busy)  
> But next week I'll go back to the usual updates on Tuesdays  
> See you and enjoy <3

“Roy” Amy called, as she opened the room to her future study “Can you come for a second? I need you to…” she stopped suddenly “What the fuck are you doing?”

He was sitting on the floor. They were supposed to unpack their stuff, to make this place their home.  _ He  _ was supposed to put her books on the shelves while she was taking care of the bedroom. But he was sitting on the floor, one of her notebooks wide open in his lap. He was reading. He was reading  _ her notes _ . How embarrassing.

“Sorry, I…” he blushed a little and looked away in embarrassment “I should have asked for your permission first.”

“That's okay” Amy had always been awfully insecure when it came to her writing and, well, her notes, her considerations upon serious subjects “Which one are you reading?”

“Notes about the military” he was carefully avoiding her eyes “Sorry.”

She sighed with relief. Good. He hadn't found that stupid diary she had been keeping. Where she was talking about June. In such cheesy words just thinking about it was enough to make her want to puke. Or yell. Or both. She was naive, back then. Naive to the point it hurt.

“I was planning on entitling it  _ Not all military men _ ” she joked “A very pompous title for a very pompous essay.”

“You were trying to provide them an outlook, an education on the military, weren't you?” now he was looking at her straight in the eye “The people of the underground. Not to hate the military. Or at least not all the military.”

Trying. That was the key word here. Because she had failed. Miserably. Completely. And defeated, she had surrendered. Though she had kept her notes.  _ Just in case. _ In case of what, she didn't know exactly. It was like keeping a ticking bomb. She could go to jail for those notes. Maybe even worse. 

“I was trying to have them understand the military as an essentialist notion was far from the reality of it: a myriad of individual soldiers, each one making both good and bad choices” she sighed and sat down next to him “Trying to have them blame the individuals who committed misdeeds, not the institution.”

“Even a violent institution full of killers?” his voice quivered, slightly but still.

“You think of it the wrong way” she smiled at him “Soldiers exist to protect, not to annihilate. They should engage in combat when there's no other way” she nervously played with her fingers “I know why you’re thinking this way: this country misused the military. It made you what you should never have been: a means to an end.”

She stopped there. His eyes… He was looking at her as if he couldn't believe the very words that were coming out from her mouth. The soldiers were deeply hated and feared since Ishval. Nobody spoke well of them. And still, everyone relied on them to keep them ‘safe and sound’. They were regarded as a necessary evil. Amy shouldn’t be surprised by his reaction: she failed making those people understand after all. She failed educating them not to hate. To see there was  _ more _ . 

“I…” he mumbled “I knew you weren't hateful of us but I wasn't aware you thought there could be… rehabilitation. I’ve always seen myself as a monster. As a killer.” 

“And I never have. I don't deny your responsibility, though” she rubbed his back gently “I was just trying to have people see it's a more complex system. A needed complex system. And that you are not just a whole lot of killers. More like youngsters who had their ideals abused.”

_ Si vis pacem, para bellum. _ There would be no war, no army in a perfect world. But this world was far from being perfect. Every country needed an army. At least to protect its interests. At least to protect its own peace. At least to protect its own people. 

“Why?” he asked “Why do you care about a bunch of murderers, Amy? You know what the military did to this country and yet you…”

“I don't want to hate” she cut him “Not the military, not anyone. You can't build anything on hatred. And surely not democracy. So I tried to understand… What you understand, you may not like, you may not agree with but you surely don’t hate.”

How idealistic of her, indeed. And yet she had thought this could work. And yet she had thought she could make them see, make them understand. But she had been too late. But she hadn’t been enough. People were already hateful. People were already blinded by their hatred. So blinded they were no longer able to hear, no longer able to see. So blinded they even had taken Amy for the enemy. 

“Not bad” he chuckled, throwing an arm around her waist to bring her closer “For someone that always calls herself selfish.”

“I became selfish” she rested her head against his shoulder “To protect myself.”

“What you wrote is incredible” he played gently with her hair “If we manage to teach those things, we might be able to keep the people together. Even during the regime change, even during the transition. Even after…”

Don’t talk about after! She tensed. She didn’t say it though. What was the point? What was the point in telling him how little the people were ready to forgive any of them for what happened in Ishval? What was the point in telling him how bad they were yearning for revenge and payback? What was the point in tearing down the only thing that kept him on his feet?

“You’re afraid of tomorrow” his voice stated as a plain and painful fact “You still don’t trust anyone with your future, do you?”

She didn’t answer right away. For Amy knew people. She knew what they were feeling. Toward the government. (Safety.) Toward the military. (Hatred.) Toward their weaponized State Alchemists. (Fear.) She knew. It hurt. She also knew failure. And the consequences of failure. She knew hatred, she knew violence. She knew the pain, the despair of not having anyone listening to your teachings. Or your miserable attempts at teaching. She just knew. She had just experience. And she didn’t want to tear down his hope. He had read her notes, he probably found them very revolutionary. They probably were. For he had been the only one ready to listen. Perhaps the people weren't ready. Perhaps she had been  _ too soon _ . And not  _ too late _ .

“I fear for you” she finally managed to mutter, in a low tone “I fear you might… die.”

She also feared he might leave her alone. After all the times he ran after her. After all the time he chased her where she was sinking lower and lower in order to disgust him. After all those moments when he said he loved her. So much. Oh so very much. After all those times he resisted her, her own insecurity, the dirt she was throwing at him… she couldn’t lose him to some… people! Yeah, that was how selfish she was. And how deep she was in love with him. 

“Fortune helps those who dare” he just answered.

“Wh-What?” she let escape a nervous giggle and rubbed her neck “Are you trying to quote Virgil’s  _ Aeneid  _ casually?”

“I might have” he smirked, wearing that overconfident look on his face again, a look that was no longer fooling her “You know, if no one dares it would never change.”

Did he look up a strong figure of power whose myth would speak to her? Or was he just clinging onto something? Onto the tale of someone who had seen the worst - Hell - only to be shown a bright future in the end? Was he that desperate? Probably. But the  _ Aeneid _ was Amy’s favorite ancient book. And the verse 285 from book X had become her motto. Such a long time ago.

“What are you?” she ironically stated “Some new Aeneas? I bet you're aware he went through hell… literally.”

“But he got out, didn't he? And he built Rome.”

“Nope” she backed off a little and poked his cheek playfully “That's what people think but the mythical builder of Rome is Romulus, Aeneas’ descendant in Virgil’s story though…”

“Is this your way of telling me to make a family, Amy Miller?” he smirked at her wider.

“As if!” but her cheeks were red, she could feel it.

Children? Him, a new Aeneas? Her, a new Lavinia? She shook her head, trying to think straight. She was having wild fantasies again. She was going too far again. But the  _ Aeneid  _ was an unfinished book. Virgil never said if the hero would end his wandering with a happy ending.

_ Audentis fortuna juvat. _

Fortune smiles to those who dare. She took a deep breath and looked at him. Theirs too was an unfinished book. And everything was yet to happen. To them. Together.


	32. Metus, odium, amor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fear, hate, love

Amy was staring at the ceiling. She could feel the tension pervading the room. She also could feel the Colonel couldn’t stay still. That was very much unlike him. And he probably had put his ignition gloves under his pillow again. He always did that as a reflex when he was under high pressure. She couldn’t remember how many times she had folded them back on his desk, without asking, without saying anything. Perhaps she should have. Perhaps this was what he expected of her. To ask. 

“Roy…” he jolted when she put her hand on his shoulder “Sorry, you’re okay?”

“Fine” he hissed, wrapping himself in the sheets and turned his back on her “Just go to sleep.” 

“Sure” she rubbed his shoulders tenderly “As if I could sleep with you stressing out just next to me” he was so tensed, she tried to be careful as she massaged his skin firmly “You can talk to me.” 

“It’s not something you need to know…” he said between clenched teeth.

“Stop being that protective” she whispered “We’re in this together, let’s at least share the burden a bit.”

“There’s nothing you can do” he sighed and finally rolled on his other side to face her “Things just don’t add up. Why is Kimblee in the North? Why Lieutenant-General Raven came all the way to Briggs in person? Not to mention they probably have a philosopher stone with them…” he pinched the bridge of his nose “This seems a bit too much, even to arrest Scar.” 

“The Elric Brothers are up there too, looking for that Xinese girl…” she took him in her arms, having him rest his head on her chest “There’s a chance there’s probably something bigger lurking behind all this. I mean, the Fuhrer did say they have a plan.” 

Just speaking his rank was enough to send a thrill down her spine. And not a pleasant one. 

“And Major-General Armstrong made contact” he closed his eyes, relaxing a bit “She probably noticed something was off as well. She could be a great ally, though she also aims for the Fuhrer’s chair as well.” 

“Feels like something had been set in motion” she played with his hair, a bit nervously “Are you… plotting some coup?” 

That was a rhetorical question. There was no other reason why he was using his information network that much lately. And if he had made contact with someone like the Ice Queen of Briggs… Dammit! And he would have kept quiet about this! She needed to translate that manuscript, soon! He would need power, he would need a weapon to carry out his attack, especially since there were homunculi in that equation. He would need the strongest fire alchemy he could lay his hands on. He would need the strongest fire alchemy she could give him. Why was she going round in circles? Why couldn’t she translate faster? Why couldn’t she help him the way she wanted to? 

“Bradley was right, you’re awfully sharp” he smirked “We just call it  _ military resistance _ for now, you see…” good, his tone had become playful a little bit. 

“And you didn’t even tell me…” but her own voice betrayed anger.

“Because nothing’s certain yet” when his remained very calm “You can’t tug on my leash if you don’t know I’m straying off.”

“Idiot” she hissed “They would come after me all the same. It doesn’t matter if I don’t know, jeez! Didn’t you understand why they made me come to the headquarters? Why they made me accept those dreadful conditions just before your eyes? None of this was about me! It was all about you!” she bashed her eyelids not to cry “I’m a fucking hostage, I’m only important as long as you care about me.”

Couldn’t he understand? She didn’t matter! Well, not really. She mattered to him. And this was why she was such good leverage. She took a deep breath. She wasn’t really afraid of what could happen to her, she was more concerned about how it’d hurt him. 

“Amy…”

She knew she could survive. But could he? 

“They even sent me pictures! They’re confident enough to let us know we’re under surveillance… They’re pressuring us, me actually, so you’d make a mistake. Let me fucking help you!” she rested her forehead on the top of his head “I don’t want to stand back and watch you fight alone.”

“I’m not alone, I’ve my men” his hands travelled up her back in a comforting gesture “I’ve my Lieutenant, she’s got my back.”

“Idiot!” she locked her arms around his head, couldn’t he read between the lines? “Don’t fight without me!”

_ Don’t leave me alone waiting for you. _

His hands wandered a bit aimlessly. The room was dark so they couldn’t really see what was before them. And their lips clumsily tried to found each other’s. He rolled onto his back and she was on top of him, his fingers leaving her back to end up on her shoulder, in her hair. In a desperate attempt to bring her closer. By any means. As if his life was depending on it. For right his life depended on it. On her. 

“But what if it fails?” he whispered between pants “You’ll go down with us, you know.” 

“You won’t fail” she pulled back, taking his cheeks in her hands, trying to catch a glimpse of his face “You’re the Flame Alchemist, the Hero of Ishval, a Colonel at barely thirty! You won’t fail!” 

_ Don’t start. _

“But this is a nationwide…” he tried to avoid her eyes “And with the homunculi…”

“You won’t fail” she said it calmer this time “You have a fucking country to rule, you can’t fail.”

_ Don’t go there. _

“Fortune smiles at those who dare, remember?” she held him closer “Fortune will smile at you, fortune is probably already smiling at you.”

She wasn’t making much sense. In fact, she was at loss for comforting words. Where had gone that self-importance of his? What did he always act as if he was just weak when he was around her? She wasn’t that strong, come on! When he was relying on her that much, she just wanted to run away in a very far location where nobody could ever find her. She was afraid, when he was relying on her like that. She felt like she didn’t have the strength. She felt like she couldn’t do it. And she hated herself for it. But she never hated him, oh no she loved him too much. 

_ And you promised you wouldn't leave me alone, you wouldn't abandon me. _

_ You can’t fail! You can’t die! _

_ Because you can’t leave me! _

_ You don’t have the right… not after chasing me for so long. _

Though she couldn't voice that last thought. It was a bit too much to ask someone this insecure already. No need to add her own insecurity. No need to add her own fears. She just pulled away, straightening her back as she started to take her top over her head. Swiftly, before he could even protest, before he could even mutter a sound. He said nothing. She said nothing. She felt his fingers brush alongside the irregular patterns of the scars on her belly, on her stomach, on her hips. He really liked to touch them. Or at least he was pretty much fascinated by them. And she was surprised. Of how much she allowed him to touch her. Of how much she allowed him to see her. Whole.

“Can I… switch on the light?” he asked almost shyly.

Why did he even ask? Why didn’t he just held out his hand to find that switch by himself? Touching was probably not enough at this point. He probably wanted to  _ see _ as well. She shivered. And didn’t know exactly why. Fear, pleasure, expectation, desire… love. All was confused in her head. All was confused in her heart. But confusion, she could bear with it. For now. For he needed her. Strong. And stern. 

“I…” she blushed a little “You'll see everything in that position though.”

She meant the scars. She meant her past. She meant her own violence and doubts. And he understood for he passed a gentle hand on her tummy. So gentle. She closed her eyes when the light was on: if he could stand such sight, she still couldn't. Not when she was with someone else. With someone she loved. But she was careful and took a proper look at his wound before going further. The skin was still a little sensitive but almost healed. Mostly healed. It was leaving a scar. A huge burn scar that would never fade. How could he have born with burning his wound shut, she still wondered.

“Amy, you're amazing” he said in a grunt.

Was he strong? Was he weak? Perhaps he was both. Perhaps she was both too. For she couldn't help crying as he praised her. Again. And again. And again.


	33. In medias tenebras

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Heart of darkness

Amy rubbed her eyes and stretched, letting out a little moan. She glanced at the pages before her. She had worked so much for today that the text was all blurry. She couldn't believe she was done -  _ done!  _ \- with the translation of the manuscript. She reread the end for the third time. Yeah, the translation made actual sense. Awfully poetic with images sometimes too far-fetched but that was making sense. Somehow. And she'd ask Roy but the symbols seemed to fit the formula as well. So why? Why wasn't she  _ happy _ ? Why couldn't she feel any kind of satisfaction? That weird feeling didn't even ease when she heard the characteristic sound of the keys unlocking the front door. She started to scan a few lines, trying to pretend everything was fine. But she soon forgot about it when she felt his hands on her shoulders, when she felt him trying to hide the slight trembling of his fingers behind his firm grip. Behind his stern attitude. 

“How was your day?” he asked and his voice betrayed nothing except he was a little tired.

“Busy but good, I finished the translation of your manuscript” she put her right hand on his and the slight trembling finally stopped “Yours, on the other hand...” she stroked his skin up his wrist, jeez he didn't even take off his coat, could it be  _ that bad? _

“Well, at least you have good news” he squeezed her shoulders a bit “Like you said, me on the other hand…”

He didn't finish his sentence either. Amy finished her line, put down her pencil and got up to turn around and face him. He did looked tired. Worn out even. God, what did they put him through again? She didn't ask him anything, she just started to have him rid of his coat, trying to be tender and caring in her gestures. Trying to play the gentle and comforting girlfriend part, even if Amy terribly sucked it. Just trying to make him feel at home. So maybe he'd talk to her, though she highly doubted so. But she was wrong for once.

“Selim Bradley is a homunculus” he said, his calm and composed tone at odds with the dreadful things he was telling her “And they threatened my Lieutenant.”

“You sure?” her voice was trembling, those were serious allegations, of course he checked before telling her, he probably even double-checked or triple-checked.

“I know my Lieutenant” he hissed “She wouldn't tell me something that huge if she wasn't a hundred percent sure of it” he passed a nervous hand in his hair “And even before, when I called her, she was acting weird.”

“You called the Lieutenant?” she arched a brow “Why? When?”

Amy wanted to slap herself. Why did she say that? Come on, that wasn't the moment to be jealous of the Lieutenant.  _ The Lieutenant _ , for fuck sake! If there was one woman on earth that wasn't seeing the Colonel as a potential easy good shag, that surely was  _ her _ ! If there was a woman on earth that genuinely cared about his happiness, that surely was _ the Lieutenant Hawkeye! _ And that frightened her, because they were close and because she…

“She's  _ my _ Lieutenant” he violently grabbed her by the shoulders “She's my responsibility as much as I'm hers, I cannot not keep in touch, I…” he sighed “Don't be jealous, Amy. You're the one I live with, you're the one I come home to” his right hand travelled up to the back of her neck “No need for jealousy.”

She was about to answer there was no need for him to be jealous of someone who was dead but that was a mean thing to tell someone who was undergoing that kind of stress. She just held his coat a little closer to her chest, feeling the slight smell of burnt paper that still lingered on the fabric. She didn't like it. She didn't like any of this. He was going somewhere she couldn’t follow. Somewhere she would lose him. She could feel it in her guts. And never Amy had wanted to be wrong so bad. 

“I feel like…” she started “I don't know, I feel like something terrible is about to happen. I can't really explain but…”

“It’s in the air...” he started.

“On everyone’s faces…” 

“Well…” he sighed “I thought I was just getting paranoid but apparently you too feel like something’s going on.”

“Yeah…” she played with the fabric of his coat nervously “I feel like danger is coming. But I can’t tell from where, I can’t tell from whom… and I’m afraid.”

“You're safe with me” he held out a hand to gently cup her cheek “I'll protect you.”

“I can take care of myself” she gently put her hand on his “Just think about that big plan of yours” she smiled “And about how you're gonna convince my parents you're a good enough man for their beloved daughter.”

“Crap!” he frowned and removed his hand from her face “I had completely forgotten it was tonight” he hissed, rubbed his forehead nervously “Well, I'll manage something.”

“If needed, I can postpone… again.”

For reasons she had to reschedule her own housewarming party twice. Her family was starting to have real doubts regarding the man she was currently living with and her mother asked her several times if she was afraid of their judgement. Which she was. Not that Roy wouldn't handle them the right way, he was good at those kinds of things. And if he kept just being his usual self, not trying to being either seductive or charming, there was no reason they wouldn't like him. She was more concerned about how they would judge  _ her _ . Her who left home, her who never introduce any boyfriend - and even less any  _ girlfriend _ \- to her family, her who ran away with little to no explanation to give them… Would they think she was a good enough partner for a man who was trying so hard? She barely convinced herself she was. 

“Don’t…” the wrinkle between his brows deepened “I don’t want them to think I don’t want to meet them or anything” he shook his head “And you’ve got everything ready, right?”

“Yeah” she nodded “I’ve ordered the food, I just have to go and pick it up at the bakery. And mom said they’d bring some wine and champagne so we don’t have to worry about the drinks.”

“Fancy parents” he chuckled “Who else is coming?”

“Well, Gracia and Elicia. My brother and his new girlfriend, Valentina. The Lieutenant Hawkeye said she’d pass by but your other former subordinates refused. And…” her fists clenched so hard her knuckles turned white “June’s mother and sister will be here too.” 

“Why?” his voice sounded almost angry.

“Because they’re… they’re like family, okay?” Amy could feel tears invading her eyes “And I need to show them I’m moving on, so they can too…”

“But they don’t know, right? About you, and June?” and now it quivered

As if he was afraid to be confronted with her past. As if he was afraid he would have to actually face June’s ghost on that party. 

“We never told them, of course” she glanced at him “But we were close and we couldn’t really hide it. I became part of the Stevenson family… as much as she became part of the Miller’s” she took a deep breath “It’s the past, Roy. And I need to show them June belongs to the past. I…” she lowered her head “They see a bit of her in me, you can’t really blame them, we were always together. When they look at him, they see a glimpse of what June can have become…” 

“But you’re not her!” 

Damn, he was almost yelling. Again. They really couldn’t talk about June without arguing, could they? Well, it was Amy’s fault anyway. He did do his part, he did tell her about his past. He couldn’t speak it so he gave her a diary to read, that was even more intimate. And she had read everything, even between the lines. She knew it all. She knew him whole. And as for her… She just had been avoiding the subject. She just wanted to keep June buried. Forever. But her guilt wasn’t letting her. 

“Roy…” she paused and took a deep breath “It’s also difficult for them. We were supposed to live together, June and I, after my exams, so…”

“I guess it’s about time you talk to me!” Amy jolted at the harshness of his tone “Living together, how cute! What was the next step, uh? Getting married?” 

He was sarcastic, meaning to be hurtful and he would have probably gone for more if it weren’t for the look on her face. And then he realized, the truth fell hard on him. Like a stone. And when he spoke, his voice was broken. 

“Don’t tell me… Fuck! You’re still wearing that engagement ring…”


	34. Memento

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remember (an imperative, an order)

Amy said nothing, her eyes staring at her feet to avoid his gaze. Of course they would have come to talk about the ring eventually. After all, he noticed it on the very day they met. And what could she say? He was right: she was still wearing it, the onyx stone shining so bright, the silver sparkling under the artificial lights. It was a token, a way not to forget. A  _ monumentum _ , as they say in Latin. A monument, so the memory of her wouldn’t fade, no matter the years. 

_ Remember me _ , it said,  _ Remember that I lived and loved you. _

_ Remember that I was once. _

She snapped out of it only when the coat was violently snatched away from her hands. Amy looked up at Roy, astonished, her eyes widening even more as she saw him put it back on instead of hanging it next to hers. Wait, put it back on? 

“Where are you going?” she managed to say with a weak voice. 

“I don’t know” his hand was on the knob already “Away. I’m just tired of being the second best, tired of seeing pictures of her in our home, tired to know you think about her more than you think about me, that’s all.”

She blinked, wavered. It felt like earth had opened beneath her feet and it was hard for her to keep her balance. What was she thinking? Yes, he was leaving her. But honestly, Amy, take a look at yourself: who wouldn’t leave you? A disgusting creature like you! A selfish monster that leaves the one she loves behind! Talking about commitment for the future as you only live in the past! Who would have the patience to put up with you? You’re just a fraud! A… 

“Okay…” she just let out as two tears rolled down her cheeks.

“Tsss” he hissed “You’re not even going to try and stop me, I see…” 

“I can’t” she bashed her eyelids quickly as more and more tears streamed down her cheeks and chin, unstoppable “I would leave me too, if I were you…”

“Stop it already with your bullshit self-pity!” he shouted at her, she yelped and took an instinctive step back “Start growing up and moving on!” 

“I’m sorry…”

“Stop that!” he shouted even louder, even angrier “Being sorry won’t ever help you! Being sorry won’t ever save you!” 

She said nothing, staring at him as she dried her tears and snot on her sleeve. Why wasn’t he leaving? He said he was going so what was taking him so long? It wasn’t hard, really, he just had to turn the knob and walk out. Slam the door even, to act on his anger if he needed to. That was as simple as that. And then, she could just, yes she could just go to the bathroom. She closed her eyes. She was already seeing it, the flashing shape of a razor blade (I’m sorry), the large red lines on her belly (I’m so sorry), the blood slowly running down her hips and legs (I’m so so sorry), the feeling of dissociation that came with it and made it all bearable. She was seeing it all. It sent a thrill down her spine. And she wanted to yell, she wanted to scream. But she just ruffled her hair and waited. Waited for him to open the door, waited for him to get out so she could just… just do it. 

“I can’t go” she finally heard him say “I know you’re just waiting for me to leave, so you can just lock yourself somewhere and…” he didn’t say it though.

He took off his coat and hanged it back where it belonged. So he wasn’t leaving? How came he wasn’t leaving? (Go, please go!) He took several steps forwards and she took just the same amount of steps but backwards.

“Amy” he frowned, his eyes were so dark, Amy swallowed with difficulty “You trapped me: if I stay it’s just June this, June that but I can’t go either or you’ll just hurt yourself. I…” 

He made a swift movement, grabbed her by the wrist before she could even see it and pulled her in a rough embrace. An embrace that had nothing sweet, nothing tender. He clung onto her hard, oh so hard, she would probably have bruises on her shoulder and on her hips. An embrace that claimed possession. An embrace that was trying to take her away from the ghost of June. An embrace full of despair. And the more desperate he was the tighter he was holding her. She tried to move her face a bit, to breathe more easily. 

“I hate you” he whispered in her ear with a low voice and it felt like her heart had been pierced with ice, she felt suddenly very cold, as if  _ dead _ “I hate you for doing this to me.”

“Roy…”

“Shut up!” he gripped on her even tighter “I… I said I’d chase after you but, fuck! I’m out of breath, I’m tired already, Amy. I can’t keep up with you…” he was crying, she could hear the wetness of his tears pervade his voice though it was really faint, her heart tightened in her chest “But I don’t want to let you go either. Amy, I…” 

At loss for words, she just wrapped her arms around his waist gently, slowly putting her hands on his back, not daring to grip on the fabric of his clothes, not daring to try and bring him closer. She was afraid of what could happened if she did so. She was afraid of what he could do. Not that he would hurt her or anything of the sort. But she was just completely terrified that if she did something all would just crumble down. 

“Amy, I need you to stay by my side” his voice, his hands, his entire self… everything in him was pleading, begging her “Will you marry me?”

“What?” she answered out of surprise, of course she wasn't expecting that, of course she was expecting everything but that “Roy, this is serious stuff, I…”

“Forget I even asked” he clung onto harder, she didn't even think it was possible at this point “Please don't push me away because I asked…”

Oh how it hurt to hear him think she would jump on any excuse to break up with him again. It just hurt. 

“Roy…” Amy whispered, slightly pulling back to look at his face “What do you want? To stay? To go?” 

How come her own tone sounded so detached, as if she was talking about something that didn't actually matter much? How come she was dissociating  _ now _ ? That was the worst possible moment! She slapped herself mentally. Come on, come back! This was real! This was serious! This sure wasn't the moment to flee, to run away! And yet… yet her brain, her consciousness was fleeing, making it all feel like a sweet dream. Like something completely unreal. Like the outcome wouldn't matter. And oh! Amy hated herself for that. So much. So much she would have slapped herself, physically this time, if she wasn't holding the man she loved. Because that slight physical contact was now the only way she had to tell him she wasn’t pushing him away. Not again. Not this time. 

“Does it look like I want to leave you?” he pulled back as well and, when he looked at her, his eyes were full of tears he was trying hard not to shed “Does it look like I could leave you, even if I wanted to?” 

Well, what could she answer to that? 

“It's just… You need to do something, Amy. Or else you won't stop hurting me. I know you want me away because it's the easiest way not to hurt me. But I won't let you pick the coward exit. Amy, look at me” he tilted her chin, a bit roughly, to meet her gaze “I love you. I love you too much to give up on you. So you have no choice but to do something. Because I won't leave you, ever.”

“Even if I don't stop hurting you?” her voice sounded weird, not hers. 

“Yeah” he sadly smirked “I'll just yell at you louder. I mean…” he bit on his lower lip “Of course as long as you have feelings for me.”

“You are an idiot…” she whispered very low “I'm not worth this.”

“Stop it” he ruffled her hair “I can’t have you imply I'm in love with a worthless moron.”

“Idiot!” she shouted again, burying her face against his chest, crying.

Why couldn't he understand? She couldn't forget June! She couldn't love him the way she loved her! It would never be the same! She would never be happy! She had no right to be happy! Not after letting June die alone!

But when he cupped her cheek and kissed her it felt like salvation. And atonement.


	35. Futura servanda

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> To preserve the future

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've got a lot of administrative things to handle since I'm moving to another city, so if I don't quite respect the usual update days I'll at least make sure to be able to update this fic once a week  
> If I don't it's just I'm too busy for it but don't worry I'm not abandoning the story or anything... I just don't have much time :'( it should be better around September, no matter what   
> Enjoy <3

They had to rush. Their stupid argument made them late and they had to prepare themselves in a hurry. Amy went, half-disheveled, her eyes still swollen, to pick the petits fours she had ordered at the bakery. How embarrassing. The woman there gave her a sorry look and the people on the street were looking at her fancy. Right, she really had to do something about her appearance before receiving her parents. The shower surely wasn't enough apparently. She had even put a nice dress on. Not something too classy but something appropriate enough for a mere celebration. Something that actually made her look quite good, even in her own eyes. So, she would need makeup in the end after all. It had been ages since she didn't put some on. Luckily, one doesn’t really forget those things. 

“And to think you didn't even wear any makeup for me” Roy exaggeratedly whined “That's unfair.”

“Shut up” she answered with a little laugh as she put on some really red lipstick “I hate makeup, it gets messed up so easily. And it's a waste of time and money.”

“You look great though” he purred, standing right next to her before the bathroom mirror, trying to rearrange his hair.

“Don't try and act all charming: I won't wear any makeup for you” her eyes caught his in the reflection “And your hair is fine. It's my parents, not an official ceremony.”

“You're making yourself pretty, though.”

Pretty? More like trying to hide the evidence of crying on her face. That wasn’t really makeup per se, more like a cover up. A fraud. Amy sighed. None of it felt natural. And she was feeling like nothing during that party would feel natural. 

“I don't want them to think you’re making me cry” she lowered her head “My mom could get really violent, if she were to think you’re making me cry.”

Maybe he would have come up with some joke that’d make him sound like an asshole full of himself but the doorbell rang first. Amy put down her mascara and went straight for the door. She tugged a bit on her dress before opening. She was really hoping she didn’t look like she had cried. It’d be a mess otherwise. The last thing on earth she wanted to see right now was the angry face of her mother. She had enough on her plate already. She didn’t want to defend that stupid man on top of it. And the door revealed her family. Her father, her mother, her brother and her brother’s girlfriend. They were all here. She could feel the knot in her stomach tighten as she flashed them a smile she hoped was warm and welcoming enough. A smile she hoped was fooling them enough.

“You look good” her mother finally said and Amy let out a sigh of relief, her tone seemed genuinely joyful “I have to admit I was a bit afraid to see you postpone that housewarming party again and again but you look really great.”

All that makeup mask was pretty much the real deal, after all. No wonder she was wearing some years ago. To hide her distress. Amy smiled again, almost naturally. Like a natural-born actress. 

“No, no” Amy waved her hands before taking away from her mother’s arms the bottle of wine she was carrying “Roy had just…” she paused, she couldn’t tell them the truth after all “A lot of work, he was tired and a bit on edge, that wasn’t the best moment for him to meet you. Sorry…”

“Don’t be. How is your research doing?”

“I’m a bit behind my schedule” Amy glanced at Roy as she saw him shake hands with her father and brother, relieved by the look on her father’s face “But nothing I can’t handle. How are you? And dad? Lots of work?”

“So and so, you know, the usual customers” her mother vaguely answered as she approached Roy as well, Amy tensed a bit “So you are the  _ famous _ Colonel Mustang?” uh, the emphasis on that word wasn’t exactly kind, Amy refrained to bite on her lower lip “I’m Manuela, pleased to meet you.”

And she was holding out a hand, that wasn’t exactly a good sign. Amy knew it wasn’t really looking good when her mother was trying to set some distance between her and her interlocutor. She swallowed with difficulty. Come on, he had seen worse, but… But please God make him remember  _ not to be charming _ with her mother. Or it would be a real catastrophe. 

“Likewise” he answered, smiling back at her and shaking Amy’s mother’s hand as if he wasn’t bothered by such cold distance she put between them.

Good, that smile was neutral enough. They started to talk about the weather, their respective jobs, Amy got to know a bit Valentina. The girl seemed pretty shy, giggling nervously at every question she was asked and it reassured Amy to know she wasn’t the only one who was terribly stressed right now. Though the girl looked sweet, sweeter than Amy. And probably more sincere when she was smiling or praising her outfit. Amy started to be at loss for not invasive or impersonal questions and welcomed the second ring of the doorbell with opened arms. A quick look at the clock told her it was probably the Lieutenant. That woman was sharp enough to arrive just right on time. 

But when the door opened, she caught red hair, green eyes, pale skin. She froze for a second. She had forgotten - how could she have? - she had truly forgotten how much June looked like her mother. How weird it was to actually see her. How painful. And how devastating for Amy’s heart. 

She tried to manage a smile but she was pretty aware it looked terrible, as if she was on the verge of tears. Which she was right now. Seeing June in her mother was all too much. Even after all those years. She was trying though and Vanessa knew it. She smiled back at her and Amy noticed her smile was also a little sad. She also noticed Vanessa’s eyes travelling alongside her hand, trying to catch a glimpse of the ring June gave her. Shoot! She should have taken it off! That ring, that stupid ring that made Roy yell at her… This time, Amy bit on her lower lip. 

“It’s been a while, Amy” Vanessa looked at her from head to toes “You’ve grown so much… You’re splendid.”

“So are you” she charmingly answered “Please come in.” 

She made room to let Vanessa and her daughter in and was surprised to see the Lieutenant Hawkeye was waiting patiently in a corner, at a reasonable distance, probably making sure to leave them enough privacy. That woman was sharp indeed, she surely had noticed something was going on even if she couldn’t put her finger on it. Even if they had adopted the tone of a casual conversation. 

“Lieutenant…” Amy said a little formally.

“Please, call me Riza” the blond-haired woman said as she entered as well. 

It was the very first time Amy saw her without her uniform and it felt a little weird. Because she was really stunning. The red dress she picked was gorgeous, very classy and looked as if made for her muscled silhouette. And the way she did her long hair in such complicated bun… So when she went to greet the Colonel Amy felt this little pinch in her heart again. Really, they looked just perfect together. They had this perfect symbiosis. There was something at work. Some alchemy, in the metaphorical sense of it. She looked just perfect. A strong, beautiful, capable woman like the Lieutenant… and he picked someone like the selfish Amy instead. Really, what was going on in his gorgeous head of his, sometimes she wondered. She was looking at him, at his perfect shape, and his smile, at his hands, at him. She was looking at  _ him _ , perhaps a little too fondly, for her mother put a gentle hand on her arm.

“Your father likes him” Amy noticed her choice of words though “A lot. He’s a very decent and smart man…” she took a deep breath “I guess I was wrong about him” Amy’s heart skipped a beat “Does he make you happy?”

Happy? Well, that was an expected question. Of course her mother would worry about such things. Especially since Amy had left home just like that. Especially since Amy hadn’t been so good for quite some time. But answering such question wasn’t easy indeed. She loved him, she cared for him, she wanted to see him smile, she wanted to stop the fighting. She wanted happiness, indeed. But she also felt like she still had a long way to go. 

“Yes. A lot” and yet she answered. 

_ But I am not making him happy. _

_ He’s just angry at me.  _

But she refrained to say that. 


	36. In gratiam cum famila

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Welcoming from the family

“Amy!” Elicia shouted as a greeting “Look, look! Canis came too!”

She waved the stuffed dog Amy had picked for her. Her smile was so bright, so close to genuine happiness, how was Amy supposed to resist? That little one almost made her want to have kids on her own. Almost only. She just patted Elicia on the head and then Canis, as if he were just as real as them. For he was in the child’s eyes. 

“Please, come in.”

Amy moved away and Gracia nodded as they entered the room. At least the fact they arrived dragged her away from her mother’s inquisition. At least for now. Of course, Gracia introduced herself and her daughter to everyone. But it was Roy she was looking for. Roy she hadn't seen in ages. Roy who was still running away from her and her daughter. Amy couldn't blame him: she couldn't look at Vanessa, she couldn't look at Maria in the eye. She too had been running away. And she was way closer to June than he was with Hughes. Or maybe not. War tends to bring people closer in its own twisted way, she shouldn’t forget it that easily. 

“Let me help” Vanessa offered as she saw Amy headed towards the kitchen.

“Thank you.”

Help. Well, that was probably just an excuse to talk but at least Amy wasn’t alone to open the bottles of wine and champagne and refill the plates with more of those petits fours. They tasted good… probably. If she wasn’t that nervous, she would have been probably able to enjoy them all. Probably. 

“He’s a fine man” Vanessa finally said “And gorgeous on top of that.”

“The Colonel, you mean?” Amy asked as she glanced at her.

“Not need to call him by his rank with me, please” she giggled “You’re like family” she put a gentle hand on Amy’s forearm “You’ve done enough, Amy. Go on, live, be happy. You deserve it.”

“Vanessa, what are you…”

“I know you’re still feeling guilty. But Amy, you’ve done enough. You’ve done more than you could. Be happy. That’d be the best gift you could give June.”

“Vanessa…”

Amy wanted to yell. She didn’t need to hear that now. Not now. And surely not from her former lover’s mother. She didn’t! She would have needed to hear those words four years ago, before the guilt rooted deep in her consciousness. But now it was too late,  _ too late! _ She couldn’t even take off a single ring, so as far as  _ being happy! _ With a  _ man _ , on top of that! Roy sure was sweet but he definitely was still a man! And men had always been… Men had always… 

“Amy, did you see…” speaking of the devil “Hey, are you alright?”

“Fine” she waved a nervous hand “Did I see what?”

“The blue dish” he frowned “But that doesn't matter” he glanced at June’s mother “Could you…?”

Oh god, how come he was able to tell something was off just by looking at her face? How come he was able to sense it, when she wasn’t at ease, and just be there right on time as if to save her? In the end, no matter what she was saying, no matter if she was too late. Perhaps Amy could be happy. After all, he was so much more than just a man. 

“Of course” she answered as she left, not forgetting to bring back two refilled plates with her.

“Roy…” Amy started.

“It's going well with your parents” he said and wrapped gently his arms around her, as if to change a subject he knew was painful “I feel like your mother is putting me on trial but she made a little joke at some point so I think…”

“Roy, I…” she rested her head on his chest “Please hold me tight”

He obliged. Her heart beat faster. She felt warmer. Safer. Taken care of. Yes, he was so much more than just a man. He was petting her hair gently, staying silent for a little while. And then…

“It's about June, right?”

“Vanessa told me to let her go. She told me I had done enough, she told me to embrace that life I'm building with you. And I want to” she gasped, struggling not to cry “But I've been clinging onto June way too hard, I can’t let go… It's like when you're gripping on something too hard you can no longer open your fists.”

“Like a grenade ready to explode…” 

A grenade. Ready to explode. Incoming danger. Of course he would make such a comparison. Perhaps he once clung too hard on a grenade as well. A literal grenade.

“Exactly…” she answered in a whisper.

“But June’s not a grenade” he calmly said as he patted her on the back this time “You can let go slowly, starting by removing the pictures of her, her belongings. You don't have to throw them away, just put them out of sight and…” 

“But June's a grenade” Amy sadly smiled “I just loved her too much to realize she would just blow up at my face and destroying my entire life!”

“And you're mad at her for that…” he just stated.

“Of course I am!” she almost shouted “She had no right… selfishly thinking of herself only like that… telling me my love wasn't enough… telling me I wasn't enough… in such awful way!”

“Shhh…” he tried to soothe her.

“I don't even want to wear that stupid thing anymore!” she angrily took off her onyx and silver ring “That stupid reminder I wasn't good enough for her! That stupid reminder that made me think I would never be good enough for nobody!”

“Amy, wait” he pulled back quickly to take a look at her “Don't you want to consider it first?”

“Consider what? Don't you think I've had enough time already?”

“You're not thinking straight, you're having a crisis, an episode. Don't act on that impulse. You’ll just regret it later.”

“In crisis comes opportunity, weren't you the one to say that?” she lowered her head “If I don't take that opportunity now, I would never take it again, Roy.”

“Amy, this is a bit extreme, don't you think? This ring…” he caught it and tried to put it back on her hand “It means a lot to you, you've kept it all that time.”

“It means too much now” she slapped his hand away and clenched her fists so he couldn't try anything again “Of course I want it back around my finger, of course I don’t want to let her go. But I must, I…” she kept her hands close to her chest “If I don’t, I…” she took a deep breath “I want to love you properly, okay?”

That look in his eyes, it was like watching snow melt. So much tenderness, so much love, Amy wasn’t sure she was worth all that. She was just like a dog, craving love and attention and yet not even feeling worthy of such praise. Naturally, they kissed. At a moment like that, how couldn’t they? He probably wanted it quick, something like just a peck on the lips to ensure the physical contact they were both craving. Of course it wasn’t enough. Of course they went further. There were tongues involved, not too much and not too long but just enough for Amy’s mother to catch a glimpse of it. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean…”

“It’s fine, mom” Amy cut her as she moved away from Roy, tugging nervously on her dress. 

That was maybe a little too intimate for her mother to see. After all, in her eyes, Roy was still undergoing some trial. Even if her mother wasn’t dumb enough to think they wouldn’t get intimate before the wedding, or that kind of nonsense. They were living together after all and her parents knew how to put two and two together.

“Is something the matter, mom?” she added quickly, to ease the tension.

“Ahem, just…” Manuela blinked several times and rubbed her forearms nervously “Roy, you’re a Colonel, right?” everyone knew who he was, what kind of question was that? “Steven wants to enter the military, I wondered if you could give him a couple of advice…”

“Oh sure” he shook his head, obviously surprised and glanced at Amy “I didn’t know your brother wanted to be a soldier.”

“Well, he hadn’t really made up his mind when I left home.”

Amy looked at her mother and then at Roy and back at her mother again. Good. There was still a long way to go but Amy could tell it by now, she knew her mother’s body language by heart. She had already accepted Roy as a new member of the Miller family. Even if she acted like she didn’t. Amy let out a sigh of relief.

Her mother never liked June.

But if she liked Roy, well maybe… Maybe Amy was right to hope. 


	37. Cras mihi sponde

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Promise me tomorrow

That night they made love. Desperately. Intensely. More than once. It almost felt like their first time together. Almost. They were both naked this time and surely not discovering each other’s body and scars. But it was just as sad, quick, rough. Just the same desperate need to connect. Just the same desperate need not to let go. To feel each other. And when she closed her eyes, Amy could see. The shape of the blade, her pale skin soaked in red. She could see where she wanted to be. Surely not in a happy place. She deserved everything that was happening.

Everything but him.

She climaxed though. Two, almost three times in a row. How come he was this good, even in a situation like this? How come he knew exactly where to touch her, exactly how to touch her? How come he knew her so well, even when she was completely lost? Was she such an open book? She bashed her eyelids and called his name when she felt him come as well. Crap… Not even June could make her feel like that. Not even June could make her feel like it was worth living in that shitty broken body of hers. Not even June could make her feel such kind of pleasure. 

Just him.

She managed not to cry this time. Even if it felt terribly good. And much better than what she actually deserved. But he wasn't a fool. He could see. One look at her eyes was enough. And when he pulled back to move a few bangs away from her forehead, he gave her a sad smile. As if he knew everything she was actually thinking right now. As if he could read her mind. 

“We met through a common friend, June and I, I mean” Amy started out of the blue.

And for some reason she couldn't stop either.

 

***

 

_ We met through a common friend, June and I, I mean. It was a regular former high schoolers reunion but my friend had brought that stranger to tag along. It was June. I liked her right on the spot. I had always suspected I was also attracted to girls but, you know, heteronormativity, homosexuality being a crime, a lot of things made me not pay attention to my own feelings, my own confusion. I thought I was looking at girls because I found them pretty, or cute, or anything. But with June I understood it all. _

_ It wasn't love at the first sight. Though I had found her really beautiful. Pale skin, green eyes. And this long ginger hair. It had the exact hue of fire and flames. A vivid and fascinating hue. When her hair was moving, it was just like looking at fire. And I couldn't stop looking at it. And soon I wouldn't be able to refrain from touching it. _

_ But at that reunion, we just talked. I am not much of a social person and she wasn't either. So, just the two of us, in a corner of the room, we talked and bonded. It was simple. It was good. It was pure.  _

_ We exchanged numbers. Addresses even. We made promises to see each other again. And we did. We did see each other a lot. And bonded deeply. Too deeply even for this society.  _

_ My feelings for her at that time were confused. I was attracted to her but I didn't dare to call it ‘love’. We were told each and every day homosexuals were degenerate, how could I dare to call it love? How could anyone? _

_ But I wasn't her first, even if she was mine. She perceived what I couldn't name and all it took was a kiss. _

_ I'll spare you the details but it felt different with a girl. Just being together was a transgressive act so you can imagine how different it felt. Every kiss, every stroke was a crime. It felt good. But never safe. _

_ This is why I started looking for safe places. Our flats were no longer enough. We wanted to do things together, not being kept between four walls. We didn’t want to be scared of every little sound when we were having sex. We didn’t want to act like criminals anymore, we weren’t doing anything wrong. We were just in love. Our only crime was being of the same sex. And such a crime it is, in this society… _

_ Turned out a friend of mine had ties with the underground world. She was some kind of activist, a thing I didn't know until then, until I started to search how we could live a little more freely. Even as a sweet dream. Even as an illusion. I just wanted to find a way to feel legitimate, being with her. So we tried. _

_ We tried and we liked it. There were music bands, artists, shows, political talks. And we could be together there. Openly. I became a bit of an activist myself, trying to fight for more rights. June blamed me for this, told me it was too dangerous, told me I was exposing us too much. Which I did. But I was too young, too naïve, too idealistic not to take political action.  _

_ She turned a blind eye though. Until she got assaulted. Like I said before, different spheres exist in the underground world. And well… _

 

_ *** _

 

“I guess I get the point” Roy calmly said as he stroked her cheek with the back of his fingers “You don't have to force yourself…”

“You don't get anything” she moved his hand and sat up angrily “If I don't talk about this now, I will never…”

“Amy” he sat up and wrapped a comforting arm around her shoulder “That doesn't mean you have to rush it either.”

“I'm not” she bit on her lower lip, she knew exactly what to say “I just never told anyone before. Her parents don't even know.”

“That's okay” he kissed her in the temple “I wanted to know after all.”

 

***

 

_ I had heard about them before, assaults of this type. I found them frightful but I wasn't feeling concerned. Those things are like accidents: you can’t really feel anything about them until it happens to you or your close ones. You just can find them ‘awful’ but still vague. You can’t grasp the horror of it. Until it happens to you. _

_ Those groups believed to be some virtue keepers or something. They raped gay men to teach them a lesson, gay women to draw them back into the natural flow of sexuality. Of course it was a paradoxical way of thinking, mostly just an excuse for rape and dominance, especially since their victims were too afraid of their own ‘deviant’ sexuality to press charges or look for any kind of payback.  _

_ They had been stalking us since a while but I didn't really pay attention. June told me but I didn't really pay attention. I was too busy arguing with people agreeing to my every ideas but never taking action. It was only when they cornered us that I realized. They went for June first. Of course, she was prettier. But me, who never fought before, was experiencing so much rage that I beat them senseless before they could actually do something. Her clothes were all torn off but they didn't have time to touch her. At least not  _ like that _. I didn't let them. _

_ And I would have killed them if June didn't stop me.  _

_ I still remember her broken voice telling me to let go. I had saved her. Or at least I thought so. I didn’t realize the damages internalized homophobia could do: if that assault made me want to fight some more, it just made June self-loathe. She was now seeing herself as a sexual deviant who probably deserved what was happening. And she was afraid of me, of how violent I could turn in the blink of an eye.  _

_ It hurt me, to hear her say loving me was some kind of abnormality. _

_ Selfish, uh? _

_ She went through a depressing phase. She was self-loathing, made several allusions to suicide. And I just did the most human thing in the world: I distanced myself. It’s a perfectly normal reaction, no one wants to go down that dark hole, even for someone they love. No matter how much they love them. _

_ But, believe me, I tried! I talked to her, I explained everything, I tried to have her see reason. I told her how much I loved her countless times. It only made things worse. Because she wasn’t listening, she didn’t even accept my help! And because I couldn’t solve the problem, I distanced myself more and more.  _

_ I fought for her but I never thought she would actually die. I just thought her will to live would come back… I thought I was enough to keep her alive. I thought my love for her was enough to keep her alive. _

_. _

_. _

_. _

_ Selfish, uh? _


	38. Finis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Closure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I couldn't update last week :/

At first, there was silence. None of them said anything. Amy hadn’t actually dwelled on the details, thinking it'd be best to spare him the embarrassment of picturing her with another girl. Perhaps she should have dwelt on the details after all. Perhaps he wanted to know it all. Even if it hurt him. 

“You are very brave, Amy” he finally said in a whisper “You went through a lot.”

“It could have been worse” she lowered her head “I could have seen war, I could have faced death with my own eyes.”

She never saw June's body, she had refused to. She had read enough murder novels to know how the body of a hanged person looked like. And she didn't want the phantasy of the blue swollen face of her beloved one to become a sick memory she wouldn't be able to get rid of. Too many memories had become sick ones she couldn't get rid of already. Love should never turn into a nightmare.

“I am a soldier, you know” he playfully ruffled her hair “I choose that path for I have something to protect but I wasn't naive enough to think I would never have to go to war” he paused, his tone turned a little sad “Not in a country that hasn't known peace in centuries.”

He was right. Amy rubbed her chin. Since when the Amestris people hadn't known peace? Was this country ever at peace to begin with? Well, it probably was part and parcel of a nation to expand itself more and more. If this country wasn’t this much alchemy-oriented, she would have almost appreciated this Pythagorean perfection it was trying to achieve by forming a circle. If the intentions behind it weren’t so dreadful… If that circle didn't mean a nationwide formula. A deadly formula. Where the Greeks had been seeing in the circle the embodiment of celestial perfection. How ironic, when you knew what the Promised Day required. 

“That rage you had during the assault…” he asked calmly, slowly travelling a hand on her back “It was motivated by something, right? I mean…” Amy noticed how carefully he was choosing his words “I also have noticed you weren't always at ease when I was making physical contact.”

With men. Right. Of course he would have notice she wasn’t acting confident around men. Like he said, he was a soldier. He had probably dissected her whole behavior by now. 

“I…” she lied down on her back and stared at the ceiling, well she had told him about June, she could tell him about the other boys as well “I just had, always had, a very weird way to approach sex and my sexuality. To make a long story short, my first time happened quite late because I had little to no interest in it and I was more beating myself over not fitting the social injunctions of being in a relationship” she scratched a bit her left forearm “So my first experiences of it were… not good, I half-consented to things I didn't want to do. Because I was stupid, I just wanted to be  _ normal,  _ to fit society's standards” she bashed her eyelids “And boys have their own social standards to fit in, they're supposed to act confident on such matters, even if they don't really have the experience. So it didn't actually helped, felt like they were forcing things onto me when they probably didn't mean ill.”

“Amy, I…”

“Please, don't say anything” she rubbed her eyes, on the verge of crying “I've nothing against boys, just bad memories. And I probably wanted to beat up those bad memories more than the guys themselves, that's all” she chuckled nervously “You must think my life is pathetic, that it's too much for one person and…”

“Yes, it is” he wrapped gentle arms around her “But life isn't fair, especially with those who are a little different.”

“I am not that different.”

“You think different” he frowned “Come on, student of honor, you'll probably be a university teacher at the end of the year. You understand everything that's brought to you, from science to Archaic Latin. Don't tell me that big brain of yours doesn't make you different.”

“It’s big, indeed. But what's the point of being a genius if you're unhappy?” she closed her eyes and sadly smiled “Everyone thinks a big brain is enough, but I wished I was stupid. For I wouldn’t know how stupid I’d be.”

Fools’ happiness. Sometimes Amy was wishing for it. But such wish never lasted long. 

“No, you don't” he rolled onto his side and rested on his elbow “You like knowledge and learning too much.”

“True” she giggled “But the smarter you are, the less your mind is at ease. It's a blessing or a curse, depends on the days.”

“But I've got you, now” he played with her hair “You can overthink as much as you want, it's going to be okay.”

“I’ll just be going nowhere, I never get anywhere when I overthink. Not to mention I'm monomaniac so you'll be bored with it before I'll be.”

“I've seen you at your worst, Amy. And you’ve seen me at mine. If we didn't want to stay, we wouldn't be there right now.”

“Who’s got who in this couple, I wonder” she sadly smiled as she rolled up to curl up against his chest.

She liked his scent after sex. That sweet smell of sweat, of him, whatever remains of desire and pleasure could linger on him. It made her feel safe, to bond with something that primal, that carnal. It made her feel safe to be dragged away from the usual thinking she was used to indulge in. It made her feel safe to know for a fact that he was here, physically, and not just an idea. An idea can’t be held, an idea can’t be kissed; but a man… 

To bond with something carnal, oh the Platonic part of her must have downed her guard for sure right now. For she never felt more at ease than at this very moment. When everything was on the verge of collapse. Except their bond. She knew for sure by now that their bond was strong enough to undergo everything. And his scent reminded her of it. She inhaled deeply and sighed. 

“You okay?” he asked with genuine care, holding out a hand to play with her short hair.

“Don't know, I feel kind of funny” she cracked a sad smile “Weird, like it's too much, like I'd cry.”

“You can cry.”

“I think I feel happy. Like… the world’s about to go down, but I think I feel happy.”

“I think you've found closure. With June. I think you needed her mother, your mother to allow to go and live with me. To allow you to let go of her.”

“I don't know, I just feel… I don't know, great.”

“That's called being relaxed, Amy” he chuckled, throwing an arm around her.

“Oh wow that's what relaxed feels like then?” she playfully answered, putting a hand on his chest “People weren't lying, it does feel nice, being relaxed” she added in a more serious tone.

“Now, all we have left to do is saving the world” he nuzzled her hair.

“ _ Just _ saving the world, you're right” she smirked “No pressure at all.”

He suddenly pulled back and pinned her onto the bed almost violently. Wait, what? She did nothing wrong! She said nothing wrong! Was he mad at her? Why was he… But he cupped her face with tender hands. But he kissed her with gentle lips. And his eyes… His eyes… 

“Amy, I…” he looked down to avert her eyes “You…”

But the words he meant to say never passed the barrier of his lips. She was more or less understanding though, he didn't need to tell her. Or at least she didn't need to hear such words from him. He knew he was relieved she finally found closure about June. For it meant she would look at him and him only. For it meant she would love him and him only. Of course he'd be relieved, that was only natural. But, sure, it was hard to say. The things we mean are always hard to say. 

She rubbed his arms, gently, travelling her fingers up and down his firm skin, massaging in circles. Taking her time. She knew he was somehow in a hurry, the way he flipped her over, the way he was currently holding her betrayed him. So she was taking her time, to find the strength to say the exact words he needed to hear. Not a complex sentence. Not a complex philosophic thought system. Simple words. But the simplest words are the hardest to say: they always mean so much in such little sound.

“I love you, Roy” she whispered.

And saying those little three words felt like pronouncing a very powerful magic formula.


End file.
